


Every Moment Marked

by 3rdOption



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben Solo is a Mess, Ben and Rey have some shit to work out, British Columbia, Brought to you by Hawkins Cheezies, Cabin Fic, Canada, Canada Day, Canadian Reylo AU, Drinking, Everyone swears, F/M, Gratuitous Canadian Product Placement, Hurt/Comfort, Inappropriate Nanaimo Bar Eating, Mutual Pining, Pacific Northwest, Pining, Reunions, Rey acts like everything is fine but could probably use a hug too, Reylo - Freeform, Rose is a Badass, Spoiler: And they do!, Surfing, Swearing, Tofino, bed sharing, trapped together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2020-06-03 00:33:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19452703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdOption/pseuds/3rdOption
Summary: Ben Solo returns to his childhood hometown of Tofino, BC after being away for many years. His arrival happens to coincide with the biggest party of the year.Rey has been left behind more than once, left to put herself back together and to keep going. She strives to stay positive by being self-reliant, looking forward and not dwelling on the past.Past and present collide when they see each other for the first time since a fateful night tore them apart and broke both their hearts.





	1. Home For A Rest

**Author's Note:**

> I'm part of a group of Canadian Reylos on Twitter who got together and decided to showcase our love of Reylo, and Canada, AND Canadian Reylo AUs. #CanadaDayReylo was born. We started throwing around fic prompts and despite not being a writer, one prompt - Tofino Surfing AU - would not leave me alone. This is the result.
> 
> My dear friend and beta, the incomparable @postedbygaslight , held my hair as I expelled this idea and formed it into my first attempt at a Reylo fic. My unending thanks and props to him for cheering me on and making this readable.
> 
> I dedicate this fic to him, to my Canadian Reylos - particularly my fellow islanders - and to all lovers of this amazing nation we are lucky enough to call home. Happy Canada Day!

It was the sudden profusion of roadwork signs on Kennedy Hill that nearly caused him to slam into a wall of bumper stickers.

What kind of dumbass just stops in the middle of Highway 4? A suicidal one, Ben Solo decided.

He tried and failed to ignore the fact that there were only a few feet of crumbling pavement that separated him from the steep drop off to the right. He glanced instead at the exposed stone and earth to his left. He’d always had this fear that a chunk of it would break loose and crush him, or worse yet, send him plummeting over the edge to his death. A long-held fear and for good reason. The signs warning to beware falling rocks had caused him worry since he was a child. He didn’t want to stay on this stretch of the highway for one minute longer than he needed to.

He lay on the horn. The wall, which he could now see was the back of a lime-green VW van, didn’t budge. The collection of stickers was impressive. _Skip the Straw, Save a Sea Turtle, Namaste, Coexist_ — and a bright yellow one in the shape of a caution sign depicting what appeared to be a goat taking a shit off the edge of a roof— stared back at him accusingly. Craning his neck out the window, he saw the reason for the delay: a paving machine, a dump truck, and two bored looking flaggers nursing giant cups of Timmy’s coffee.

That gave him pause. The last Tim Horton’s he’d seen on the drive up island was all the way back in Port Alberni. That coffee - if you could call it that, the quality had really gone downhill lately - had to be stone cold by now.

The edges of the road appeared to blur and ripple in the heat. He rolled up the window, cranked the AC and waited.

 _Friends don’t let friends eat farmed salmon_.

Ben ground his back teeth and checked his phone. No signal. Fucking great.

 _There is no Planet B_.

Throbbing beats and angry tones blasted from the stereo. They matched his mood as he picked at a seam on the stick shift. “Fucking move!” he spat out.

The pooping goat started to decrease in size, and he realized with a jolt that they were finally being given the all-clear. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the wheel as his car crawled through the worksite at the designated speed. The last thing he needed was another ticket.

He’d barely passed the construction zone when he slammed the Camaro into second gear, and then quickly into third, swerving dangerously across the double yellow line and nearly sideswiping a logging truck. _Slow Down, You’re Not on the Mainland_ was the last he saw of the trundling green van as it shrank in his rear-view.

* * *

Rey sat astride her longboard, studying the waves. She knew every inch of this beach— its reefs and hidden sandbars, where the rocks and hidden dangers lay. To the uninitiated, it would have seemed she was merely admiring the view. What she was actually doing was far more involved: looking for patterns, counting sets of threes and fours, seeking out the perfect spot.

 _There_ , she thought, catching sight of one. _Right there_.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She waited for the pause between sets and paddled out left of the breaking waves. Long years of practice had carved strong, lean muscle into her once untrained limbs. They burned now as she pushed them to their limit.

Rey chuckled to herself. How many times had she almost accidently drowned herself during those first attempts? Now, she knew better. Now, it was instinct. She moved easily through the whitewater, mindful to keep the tip of her board up when the waves broke in front of her.

Not grinning wasn’t an option. This was always the best part, the anticipation.

She propped herself up on her arms and slid down a wave’s back as she closed in on her spot. She paddled harder, all else fading as she zeroed in on the slate gray wall of water rushing towards her.

Rey gave the nose of the board a firm downwards push, executed a neat duck dive, and surfaced on the far side of the wave. She filled her lungs once more and repeated the action.

From the corner of her eye she saw a few of the other local surfers lined up behind her. They’d spied the same spot and had followed.

 _Watch this_ , she thought, inhaling sharply. The air was heavy with the tang of salt and cold. A giant crest of water was building in front of her. She let it approach, readying herself, and let everything else slip away except this. Just this.

The wave swelled. She gripped the board and charged forward.

She’d timed it perfectly. The massive roller threatened to crash over her just as she reached its shoulder. Careful to keep her center of gravity in the middle of the board, she hopped up on to her feet in one fluid motion. And then, she was flying. She was free.

Rey had once tried and failed to explain to Rose what it felt like. Yes, there was an adrenaline rush. Yes, it was fun. But it was so much more than that. It was the thrill of harnessing an unstoppable force, if even for just a few moments. Of feeling that power and momentum and embracing it instead of fearing it. It was working with nature, not against it.

Ebb and flow. Swell and crash. Peace and purpose.

Balance.

And for a few blissful moments, it was everything. Rey rode the wave in to the shore raising her arms in victory in response to whistles and cheers from the others.

The lingering thrill of adrenaline coursed through her. It warmed her chilled fingers as she dragged her board through the shallows. She loosened the zipper of her wetsuit and lugged her board down the beach toward her bungalow. Early morning rides always left her feeling grounded, calm, ready to face the day, and after a ride like that, she felt ready to take on anything.

Even the annual Canada Day party at the beach house.

* * *

Ben tensed, his stomach souring as he flew past the _Welcome to Tofino_ sign. Spotting his exit, he eased off the gas pedal.

“The fuck am I doing here,” he muttered, chewing on his inner cheek.

Memories fogged by anger trickled back in bits and pieces. Slammed doors and shouted declarations. Telling that son of a bitch Snoke to go fuck himself. Needing to be away, needing to be anywhere else. Buying a one-way ticket for the Horseshoe Bay ferry. Back to the island. Back home.

He turned the Camaro onto the dirt road that lead to his destination. Overgrown trees crowded close on either side, towering sentinels that only let through small amounts of dappled sunlight. How long did you have to be away for it to have been too long?

 _Thunk_.

He hissed as the passenger side wheel well bottomed out, scraping over an enormous pothole. “Get it together, Solo.”

The forest canopy parted and left him blinking in the sudden sunlight. Directly ahead, looking a little older and a little worse for wear, stood the beach house.

The annual Canada Day parties thrown around here were legend. And from what he’d seen thus far, this year would be no exception. Tacky, colourful bunting hung from the eaves, fluttering cheerfully in the steady sea breeze. A giant flag had been affixed to the side of the veranda. Someone had even wound red and white streamers around the railings.

Ben parked the car and switched off the music. The cooling engine ticked softly. A dreamlike sense of unreality overtook him. How many times had he thought about this old place? He sat staring at it, a lump forming in his throat. And a part of him feared to move lest it dissolve and drift away like mist.

The spell was broken by the sound of an approaching vehicle. It came to a stop with a splutter and a clunk. A dark-haired man emerged, yelling something about a maniac nearly running him off the road.

Ben’s driver’s side door shrieked in complaint as he hefted himself out of the Camaro.

“Well, I’ll be goddamned.” The dark-haired man’s scowl of annoyance slowly changed to a smirk. “So, who talks first? You talk first? I talk first?”

Ben jerked his chin in the direction of the lime coloured piece of junk. “The old man gave it to you.” It wasn’t a question.

Poe Dameron glanced over his shoulder, his eyes softening when they landed on the van. “Yup, longest relationship I’ve ever had. We’ve been going strong for almost ten years now.”

Ben snorted at that. _Most Likely to Knock Up the Head Cheerleader_ had been Poe’s unofficial yearbook title back when they were in Ucluelet Secondary together. Clearly, not much had changed.

Ben studied him as he spoke lovingly of the VW. Like the beach house, Poe had aged. He sported a bushy beard and his curls were shot through with strands of silver. But his eyes still had the playful gleam Ben would know anywhere.

“Have to hand it to you, Solo. Almost didn’t recognize you with all the new colors. Is that _gray_? And... _charcoal_?” Poe chuckled, as he looked him up and down.

Ben’s cheeks started to dimple. “You ever find a doctor who could treat that clap? I heard they named a new strain of antibiotics after you.”

Poe let out a bark of laughter. “And you wonder why no one would sit with you in the cafeteria at school.”

Ben remembered it clearly. The empty spots at his table. They always passed him by. Who could blame them? Why choose the weird kid with big ears when there was a spot free next to the prom king? _Sycophants_ , he’d thought at the time. But he could only ignore it for so long— the loneliness, the bitter stab of jealousy.

“At least I wasn’t a public health risk,” Ben said with a smirk. “I’m not the one who had a standing appointment with the school nurse.”

“Amilyn Holdo,” Poe sighed dramatically. His eyes took on a dreamy quality. “What a woman.”

Ben rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you fucked her too.”

Poe’s smug expression spoke for itself. “A gentleman never tells, Ben.”

“I gotta admit, Dameron,” Ben said, unable to conceal his admiration, “I’m impressed.”

Poe turned back towards the van and waved him over. “Hey, gimme a hand with these, will ya?”

Ben shut his car door and walked over to where Poe was unloading folding chairs. Grabbing an armload, he followed Poe around the back of the house.

* * *

Rey scanned the room and looked for a place to put down the seven bulging grocery bags she only _just_ had a grip on. Pots and pans sat in a precarious heap next to the sink and every square inch of counter space was being used for food preparation.

“I see some dish washing is in order,” she said.

Rose, who’d been entirely engrossed in folding eggs into her lemon curd mixture, nearly dropped the spatula.

“Jesus _fuck_ , you scared me!” She spun around, catching her breath. “Did you find everything on the list?”

“Yup,” Rey beamed, displaying the groceries like a proud lioness back from the hunt.

“All Dressed chips?”

“Check.”

“Ketchup chips?”

“Of course.”

“Cheezies?”

“Pfft, duh.”

Rose’s eyes narrowed. “Hawkins or Cheetos?”

“Hawkins, obviously,” Rey looked like she’d just smelled something foul. “Though, looks like Cheetos is having a go at the Canadian market. They’ve got a Canada Day special this year where they’ve morphed their sorry excuse for cheezies into little maple leaf shapes.”

Rose took some of the grocery bags. “Don’t hate me, but I actually kinda like Cheetos.”

Rey stared at her aghast. But the expression melted into a knowing grin. “Well, it’s a good thing I got these then.” She produced a bag of Cheetos and handed it to Rose.

Rose’s face lit up. She snatched the bag away with a gleeful snicker. “Have you tried the white cheddar ones? They’re _dangerously_ addictive.”

“Vile temptress,” Rey accused playfully, then returned to the groceries. “Oh! I almost forgot to tell you, I picked up some more ice, just in case you needed it.”

“You’re an absolute angel, I knew I forgot something.”

Rose set the bags on down on the dining room table and went back to pour out the now set curd into waiting pie shells. Meanwhile, Rey went to unpack the remaining groceries, but when she opened the fridge, she found it full to bursting.

“Time to put my world-renowned Tetris skills to the test,” she said to herself. Sighing, she cracked her knuckles and got to work.

“Is there anything in here we can take out?” she called over her shoulder.

Rose briefly looked up from her work. “Ahhh, hmmm. Oh! The fruit can come out.” She scrunched her nose and set to pouring the curd into the next pie shell. “Just set them anywhere. I’m gonna start on the fruit platter once I finish whipping up the meringue for these pies.”

Rey emptied the crispers as instructed and finished stocking the perishables.

“Gee, Rose,” she deadpanned, “I’m not sure we’re going to have enough food.”

“You think so? I suppose I could whip up a batch of brownies too,” Rose worried her lower lip as she put her elbow into working the meringue mix.

“First off, I was kidding. We have enough food here to start a chain of tacky restaurants.” She pushed her sleeves up and started on the dishes. “And ease up a bit. I swear, you’re beating that mix like you’re trying to punish it for disappointing you. Besides, Maz is already bringing brownies. The _good ones_.”

Rose popped the pies in the oven, stood, turned and arched a brow. “The _good ones_ , good ones?”

Rey nodded, grinning mischievously. “The _good ones_ , good ones.”

Rose pumped her fist. “Yesssssssssss.”

“We should probably get started on putting together the desert platter,” Rose said, waving the carving knife in the direction of several trays and tins. “And there are Nanaimo bars too. They should be fully set by now.”

“I _knew_ you were holding out on me,” Rey said, grinning ear to ear.

Before Rose could say anything at all, Rey was in the fridge, pawing her way through the contents. And there they were. Pulling the tray free, Rey let out what could only be described as a squeal.

Rose took it from her, brows arched. “Dignified, Rey.”

“Oh, skip it,” she countered excitedly. She was almost bouncing. “Come on, come on, come on.”

“You realize you’re telling a tightly-wound woman with a knife to hurry, right?”

“Focus, Rose. There’s _chocolate_ at stake here.”

Scoring the sheet of chocolate into squares, Rose made the cuts, then withdrew the knife and took a step back, pretending to cower behind it as Rey advanced. Rey rolled her eyes and snatched up a square, yanked it apart, and shoved it into her mouth without any hesitation.

“Awwhh,” she said as she chewed. “Dhat’s guhhhd.”

A loud bang sounded in the hallway, followed by heavy footfalls. Rey and Rose both looked up as Finn came into the kitchen. He looked right at Rey, who snapped her mouth shut and tried to finish chewing.

“What’s this?” he said, jerking his chin comically toward her. “What is she doing?”

Rose turned her attention back to arranging cookies. “Hi, honey. It’s good to see you, too. Yes, there’s plenty you can do to help.”

Finn wrinkled his nose and rubbed the back of his head.

“Hi, babe. Good to see you. Can I help with anything?” he recited in a flat, robotic tone. Rose scoffed but cracked a smile. He turned to Rey and said, “Seriously, though. What are you _doing_ to that thing?”

Rey swallowed the last bit in her mouth and smacked her lips. “Um, eating it?”

“That’s not eating,” Finn said, curling his lip. “ _That’s_ a crime against nature.”

Rose hissed. “Be. Nice.”

Rey propped her fist on her hip. “No, wait. I’d like to know what _crime against nature_ I’m meant to have committed.”

“You don’t eat a Nanaimo bar like that.”

“Here we go,” Rose groaned, carting a tray to the table.

“What?” he called after her, then turned back to Rey. “You _don’t_.”

Rey plucked up another square, turned it on its side, and positioned her fingers to pull it apart.

“Hey,” he warned her. “Stop that.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

He stepped around the counter and grabbed her hand before she could pull the bar apart. “ _Don’t do this_.”

“I can eat a Nanaimo bar without you holding my hand, thank you,” she said, sticking out her tongue as she broke free of his grip.

He reached for the bar again, but she danced away and, staging it as dramatically as she could manage with a straight face, pulled the bar apart and started eating the crumbly bottom.

“No, that’s— you can’t be serious,” Finn said, smacking his hand on the countertop. “You _can’t_ be serious.”

Rey chewed it, mouth open, humming contentedly.

Rose came back into the kitchen, and seeing Finn gawking, elbowed him in the ribs. “Lighten up. Live and let live, Finn.”

“Live and let— do you see—” he sputtered.

Rey held up the bar, showing him the creamy center. His eyes widened as she gave it an exaggerated lick.

“That’s it,” he growled.

He straightened up, grabbed his own square, and chomped right into it. He chewed it as dramatically as Rey was chewing hers and swallowed it down with a theatrical gulp.

“ _That’s_ how you eat a Nanaimo bar. All the parts together at once, as God intended.” He looked down at Rose. “And by the way, that was goddamn delicious.”

She raised up on her toes and kissed him. As she backed away, she licked her lips. “Mmm, not bad at all.”

He smiled and gave her a little wink. “Though— how much sugar did you put in these things? I can’t feel my teeth.”

Rose laughed, but that all changed once she saw the serving tray. She leveled an accusing glare at Rey. “Wait, how many of these have you had?”

Rey adopted a sheepish expression and shrugged. “I dunno, three? Maybe four?”

Rose’s eyes narrowed to slits. “You’re cut off, no more sugar for you.”

Rey pouted for a moment but gave up the act as soon as Rose spirited the tray out of the room. Dusting off her sugary hands, Rey hopped down from the wooden stool she’d been sitting on and landed directly in a frigid puddle.

Her hand went to her mouth. She’d forgotten all about the ice.

Finn sighed. “I got it, I got it. Just get those outside.”

“Finn,” Rey said, picking up the dripping bags, “I’m so, so sorry. Look at your floor.”

“Not _my_ floor,” he said, heading for the pantry. “I’m just the guy who mops it.”

A kiddie pool that they’d found on sale at Canadian Tire had been converted into a makeshift beer cooler. It sat near the barbecue grill half filled with ice and drinks. Rey dumped the contents— mostly water by this point— into it. She straightened and stretched, her eye drawn to the darkened skyline as she rubbed her lower back. Strands of hair came loose from her buns as the wind began to blow in earnest.

That’s when she heard it. It had been years and years, but she’d have known it anywhere. The unmistakable growl of Ben’s Camaro.

Goosebumps that had nothing to do with the ice raised on her arms. And though her first instinct was to gasp, she suddenly found it very difficult to breathe. She felt she might crawl out of her skin if she stayed there another minute. The urge to move, to act, to flee, crawled through her veins like a living thing. And so, she did what she did best— she turned and ran back the way she’d come.

Reaching the back door, she pulled it open and yelled inside. “Hey, Rosie, mind if I take a break for a bit? Umm, something’s blowing in and the surf’s up. I want to grab some waves before it makes landfall.”

Rose looked up from a stack of paper plates she was attempting to wrestle out of the packaging. “Yeah, you’re good.” A little crease appeared between her brows. “We’re pretty much ready to go here, but are you sure that’s a smart idea? I heard we might be in for a storm tonight.”

“I’ve been surfing since I was five,” Rey huffed impatiently. “I think I can handle myself.”

Rose clapped a hand over her mouth. “Enough, I got it. Go. Just be—”

Rey kissed her palm and grinned. “Careful. Yeah, yeah. I promise.”

She spun around and fled, seeking the comfort of the ocean.


	2. You Learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your kind words and your patience! To make up for being over a week late, I've upped the chapter count to 4 ;)
> 
> Without further ado, here's chapter 2!

“That should do it,” Poe grunted as he dropped the last of the chairs on the back lawn. “Want a beer?”

“Sure,” Ben shrugged out of his leather jacket. The humidity had risen causing it to stick in places. Even the breeze, normally cool— cold even— felt unusually muggy and oppressive.

“Pick your poison.”

“Beer.”

“Yeah, that much I figured. Which is why I asked if you wanted a _beer_ , as opposed to a _drink_. C’mon, we’ve got a variety of IPAs, lagers, ales…” Poe’s voice trailed off as he fished though the kiddie pool. “What the hell is this?” He pulled out a brown tallboy and read out the label. “Nanaimo Bar Imperial Porter?” He dunked the can back into the slush, shaking his head. “I gotta have a talk with that girl.”

Ben’s heart thudded in his chest. _What girl?_ he almost snarled.

For once, though, he managed to keep his mouth shut, instead huffing a hard breath out of his nose. Poe stole a glance at him over his shoulder as he sorted through the beer bottles. He chuckled under his breath but didn’t say anything.

Eventually, he selected a pair of Fat Tug IPAs, popped off the tops, and handed one to Ben. Ben eyed it with skepticism.

Poe arched his brows comically as he belted down a gulp of his beer. Ben put his nose to the lip of the bottle and sniffed. The bracing aroma of hops was bitter enough to make his eyes water.

“Come on,” Poe needled him, cuffing him on the shoulder. “Man up.”

Not one to have his fortitude called into question, Ben shrugged away from Poe and knocked back a swig. He snorted and shoved the bottle away, his lips curling back as he read the label: seven percent alcohol.

“What’s the matter, Solo?” Poe teased. “Forgot what real beer tastes like?”

Ben answered with a grunt. His second sip was slower. “I don’t really drink all that much anymore.”

Poe looked out past the yard to the beach and to the sea beyond it. He nodded and took another plug from the bottle. “I hear that. Can’t keep up the pace we once did, that’s for sure.” His gaze slid back to Ben, his smile sly. “We had some good times though, didn’t we?”

“Yeah.” Ben cracked a half-smile. “Yeah, we did.”

Recollections of sneaking out the basement window after curfew, slinking through the dewy grass in sock feet, pulling on his runners and making his way down to the beach to the join the others suddenly came to mind. That part had usually been easy. It had been the sneaking back in the same way, wasted and smelling strongly of illegal beach fires, without waking Han. _That_ had been challenging.

Poe gave him a roguish wink. “Those wild days are behind me now. Well, mostly.”

They’d been underage, but Poe – damn his endless charisma – had always been able to charm some sap into agreeing to boot for them.

Ben rolled his eyes. “I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m serious, man!” Poe lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Kale smoothies, clean living, meditation, the whole she-bang. I even supplement my income by putting on Yoga classes over at Wildpod.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Ben spat out, incredulous. “Let me get this straight, you teach yoga to those fucking hipster glampers over at the end of Grice Point?”

Poe shrugged, and knocked back another gulp. “What can I say? Yoga’s an excellent practice. Keeps me healthy and pays well too.”

Ben couldn’t hide his scorn.

“Also good for the stamina,” Poe continued, waggling his brows suggestively, “and flexibility and endurance if you know what I mean.”

Ben shut his eyes and groaned. “And _there_ it is.”

“In the high season they put on Yoga and Surfing retreats. I teach the Yoga classes—” Poe cast him a sidelong glance, pausing deliberately. He cracked a knowing smirk. “And Rey is the surf instructor.”

Ben absentmindedly picked at his bottle’s label. A muscle in his jaw twitched undermining his efforts to appear unaffected.

“It’s a pretty sweet gig.” Poe nudged him with his elbow. “You should ask her about it when she gets here.”

“That obvious?

“Obvious?” Poe laughed once, but loudly. “Man, you’re like a sphinx most of the time. The second I grabbed that beer— if you can call it that— you started doing that thing you do with your eye.”

Ben took another drink. The hops burned in his nose. “I don’t do a thing with my eye.”

“Sure you don’t, bud,” he said, clearly unconvinced. “You should talk to her.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to me.”

Poe sighed and clapped Ben on the shoulder. “Hope, man. It’s like the sun.”

Ben groaned. “Don’t quote my mom.”

“Hol-eee shit,” came a familiar voice from the direction of the house.

Their heads turned in unison and watched as Finn made his way down the stairs. He sported a _Kiss the Cook_ apron and carried a pair of tongs in one hand and a barbeque lighter in the other. The second-to-last stair gave a comical squeak as he came to a standstill on it.

Rose, who’d been following close behind, had more tact as she pushed past Finn. “Ben? Oh my god! Welcome home!” She jogged across the lawn and plowed into Ben, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Beer still in hand, he gave her an awkward one-armed hug. “Thanks.”

Rose tilted her face up, beaming at him. “What are you doing here? How long are you staying? When are you—” She have her head a quick shake and smiled even wider. “You know what, never mind. I’m just really glad you’re here.”

He tightened his arm around her, grateful for the out. He wouldn’t have been able to answer her if he’d wanted to. What _was_ he doing here?

The sound of cars pulling up snapped Rose back to the present and she stepped away from Ben.

She pointed at Poe. “You. Chairs. I need them unfolded and spread out.” She pivoted to Finn. “Grill. I want to get the burgers on soon, people will be here any minute.” She scanned the yard, and looked to Ben, then to the others, panic starting to bleed into her voice. “Right! Fire. We need that firepit stocked and lit. Ben, do you mind?”

Finn slid an arm around her waist, pulling her to him and lowered his mouth to her ear. “Breathe, just breathe.”

Rose slumped back into his chest, closed her eyes and took a long breath through her nose.

“You’re doing a great job,” Finn soothed. “This party’s going to be a smash. Now, go finish whatever it is that you need to finish. We got this.”

Nodding, she turned her head, planted a quick kiss on his jaw and darted back into the house.

Finn straightened and turned to Ben and Poe with a chuckle. “Well, you heard the lady, hop to it!”

* * *

_Fuck. This._

Rey surfaced, gagging on a half-swallowed mouthful of sea water. Her eyes and nose ran as she expelled it from her burning lungs. Turning her board toward the beach, she let the next wave propel her forward.

_Rookie mistake. Get it together, Rey. You’re a professional, goddamn it._

Ben Solo. Ben _fucking_ Solo. This was all his fault.

Long-buried fragments of memory pushed their way to the forefront of her mind.

Calloused fingers, gentle caresses. Warm, sloppy kisses and feverish skin. The weight and heat of him. Dark hair falling in front of soft eyes and a not-quite smile. The intensity of that gaze, she’s never felt so desired, never felt so seen.

 _Just you_.

Rey dunked her head under the water to rinse her face and clear her mind. She was uncomfortably aware that her heartbeat was too rapid, her breathing too quick. She steadfastly ignored both as her feet hit the sand and she slid off her board. It bobbed behind her, following in her wake like an obedient dog, towed by the leash strapped to her ankle. She reached down and ripped at the Velcro that secured it. Once free of it, she yanked her board out of the water and roughly tucked it under her arm, heading for home. The wind gusted in earnest, wild and cold one minute, soft and warm the next, and she struggled to keep a hold on the unwieldly thing as she walked.

The advancing front now had a sickly purple-green hue. Rey worried her lower lip as She began to mentally tick off a list of things she should do to prepare. Emergency supplies needed to be checked, extra water and firewood stocked, windows shuttered, and anything not tied down would need to be stowed so it couldn’t blow away. She picked up her pace, shivering despite her wetsuit.

The memories sliced deeper, refusing to be ignored. She recalled another night, another storm. Warm arms around her. Feeling safe, protected. Everything a strange jumble of strange and new, but right. Feeling cared for. Wanted.

_You’re not alone._

_Neither are you._

Oh, how she’d wanted to believe it. The force of the memory hit like a riptide. Rey scrunched her eyes shut and waited for the pain to recede.

Waiting. Always waiting.

Rey stopped walking and let her head hang, watching the water drip from a stray lock of her hair. Wiping the salty residue of seawater from her lips, she muttered another curse. She should have been better at this by now.

You know what? Fuck him. _He_ left _her_. No one forced him to go, he _chose_ to leave. He’d had everything she’d ever wanted, and he still left.

Just like _they_ did.

Watching the tail lights of the olive-green Oldsmobile blink away down the driveway. _Come back!_ Waiting for it to stop, to turn around, for it all to have been an accident— a mistake. _Quiet, girl_. But it didn’t come back. No one came back. And no amount of wishing or hoping or crying would change that.

Rey’s grasp on her board tightened, knuckles blanching a stark white. She grit her teeth, her irritation curdling into something darker.

 _This_ is why she didn’t dwell on the past. Nothing good ever came of it. The sting of rejection, bone-deep. Crying herself to sleep night after night. The empty crush of loneliness. Who needed that shit? Fuck _that_.

She took in a deep breath and pushed it out through her mouth as she resumed her trek through the dunes. The here and now. _That’s_ what mattered. The family _she’d_ found, the life _she’d_ built.

Rey crested the final ridge, her bungalow coming into view. She stood for a moment and looked it over, feeling a sense of pride and grim satisfaction. She huffed a bitter laugh. Like her, the old surf shack had been abandoned, forgotten. But she’d made something of it, all the same.

She stowed her board under the front porch and then headed around back to the outdoor shower to rinse off her wetsuit. Her shoulders, tense with cold, sagged in relief under the hot water.

Her thoughts drifted to earlier in the day. To Rose, gleefully hugging the bag of Cheetos to her chest. To Finn emphatically chewing that poor Nanaimo Bar. She thought of the triumphant looks on the faces of the kids she taught when they rode their first waves. She thought of growing up with Maz, who’d not been much taller than she’d been when she’d first come to this place, of the home they’d made and shared together.

Rey’s anger washed away along with the sand that clung to her suit. In its place, a sad sense of acceptance settled like a weight on her shoulders. She reluctantly turned off the hot water and went inside to dry off and change. Closing the door behind her, she resolved to let the past be the past. Hadn’t Ben been the one to tell her to let it die in the first place? To _kill it_ , if she had to?

There was no point in obsessing over whys and what-could-have-beens. Her life was great, and she was going to be damned if she let anyone spoil that. Even Ben _fucking_ Solo.

Rey shook her head and straightened her shoulders. There wasn’t time for this, that storm was coming in fast and she needed to prepare. Now.

She ticked off the items on her mental list as she checked the supplies in the emergency kit under the kitchen sink, filled some old four-litre jugs with water, and stacked two extra armloads of wood next to the stove. Giving the room a once over, she nodded to herself in satisfaction. Dusting off her hands, her eyes landed on the clock over the stove: 5:17 PM.

 _Shit_.

Shitshit _shit_.

She’d promised Rose she’d be there _before_ the guests arrived.

She ran over to the mirror by the bed. Her hair – still a bit damp – was a wild and tangled mess. Rey groaned in frustration and dropped to her knees, rooting around under the bed for a hairdryer. The windchimes on the front porch clanged angrily, drawing her attention to the front window.

 _Goddamn it_. The deck chairs. The plants. And every other damn thing out there, ready to be blown to god-knows-where. She gave up the search, leapt to her feet and went to bring in the previously forgotten furniture, windchimes included.

It didn’t take terribly long to secure down what needed securing, and to drag in what needed stowed indoors. What took up more time than anything was trying to arrange everything inside the surf shack. It had always been a tight fit, but Rey had little in the way of possessions, making the place feel more cozy than cluttered. Now, with deck chairs and potted plants haphazardly stacked in every inconvenient place, it felt cramped and crowded.

“ _Fucking shit_ ,” she hissed as she banged her knee on the way to the tiny, two-piece bathroom.

It was lit with a single bulb and the oval mirror, which hung over a tiny antique sink she’d salvaged from a demolition site, was splotchy and chipped. She tried not to squint despite poor light as she hurriedly applied light applications of mascara and eyeliner. She added a swipe of lip-gloss stepped back to inspect her handiwork.

Her reflection seemed to mock her. Tight-jawed. Tense and sallow and unapproachable. No amount of makeup was going to hide that.

Rey scowled back at the dour face in the mirror. “Why do I even bother?”

She huffed an annoyed breath, squared her shoulders, and forced herself to smile. Tamping down the flutter in her chest, she switched off the light, grabbed her jacket and keys, and left for the party.

Spikey, barbed sea grass whipped at her bare legs as she jogged down the beach. She glanced at her phone for what had to be the hundredth time: 5:32 PM.

“Rose is going to be pissed,” she moaned aloud. She’d promised Rose she’d be there, she _promised_. And the thought of disappointing her left Rey feeling slightly ill.

Rey scanned the path ahead, her gaze snagging on a break in the trees. The shortcut! How had she forgotten about the old path through the woods they’d used as kids? It would save her at least ten minutes. She darted forward, weaving through, over and around bushes and fallen branches as she plunged into the welcoming arms of the forest.

The trees enveloped her, drawing her further in. The air was warmer here and heady with the scent of pine and cedar, and of dry, decaying foliage. It mingled with the unmistakable smell of the rain that would soon come.

An eerie sense of calm settled in around her as she went. For the briefest moment, she had the disorienting sense that she may have been walking for hours instead of minutes. Or was it days? Or had she always been here, alone and searching, never finding what she sought?

Faint strains of music filtered through the sounds of the creaking trunks and swaying branches. Pushing through the underbrush, she was met by sweet notes of honeysuckle and roses, and she knew the beach house was just beyond the tree line.

She stepped out, onto the lush green lawn. Directly in front of her, parked in the shade, sat a 1969 Camaro SS.

 _Ben’s_ Camaro.

Seeing it there was like being in a dream within a dream. The sense of unreality lingered as she reached out a hand, unable to resist running her fingers over its glossy black surface.

“Hello, baby.” she murmured, a slow smile tugging on her lips.

She walked slowly around the car, taking in the details, admiring the black-on-black finish and the mirror-bright polish of the chrome accents. It was, as always, in immaculate condition.

 _Silencer_. It earned that name for silencing every challenger that took her on after hours along the straight stretch of Highway Four. The rush of memory, the thrill of it, called to her, echoing in her blood even now. Of summer nights. Of burnt rubber and engine exhaust. And the scent of leather, the feel of it on her bare skin. Sweat and fogged windows. Greedy hands, greedy mouths. Never quite finding a comfortable position, and never caring.

“God, I hope I look as good when I’m fifty,” she said aloud.

“You won’t.”

 _Ben_.

She didn’t have to look. But she did. He was just as he’d been back then, she thought— pale and too-serious, with that angry scar snaking down from his right eye. And Rey didn’t know when she’d stopped breathing, but her heart was drumming in her ears, and for a terrifying instant, she thought she might burst into tears.

But then the spell broke and Rey’s brain processed what he’d just said. To her.

“Wow,” she sputtered, flinching. Her cheeks flushed, and her stomach soured, and a clutch of raw anger coiled in her chest. “Seriously. Wow, thanks for that.”

“Rey, wait. I—”

She strode towards him, fists clenched at her sides. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how deep that barb had landed. She wasn’t going to give him _anything_.

Rey jabbed his chest with her finger. “That’s a pretty shitty way to greet someone, even for _you_. And that’s saying something.”

Ben bristled at that, his nostrils flaring. He opened his mouth to speak, but Rey had no intention of continuing the conversation. She shook her head in disgust, shoved past him, and marched towards the house. She didn’t look back. That had been her mistake before. And there was no way she was going through that again. Not for him. Not for Ben fucking Solo.


	3. Do What You Have To Do

Ben tried to smile, but it came off as more of as a pained grimace. Some random woman, whose name he’d already forgotten, had him cornered near the hydrangeas. She was chewing his ear off about her daughter— niece?— who worked down in Victoria as a policy analyst for one of the provincial ministries. According to her, he and this girl had gone to school together at some point.

Ben had no fucking clue who the girl was. He glanced around, desperate for diversion, a distraction, anything that would give him a plausible reason to leave. There were people everywhere he turned. And apparently all of them wanted to hear about how he was doing. Or what he did for work now. Or what he was doing back in town, and how long would he be staying.

Yes, brilliant fucking idea, Ben. Show up, unannounced, with no job and no plan.

Hell, he didn’t even have a place to stay tonight. And this woman would not _stop talking_.

“We’re just so proud of her. Say, are you on Facebook? You should send her a friend req—“

 _Nope_. Nope, nope, nope. He was _not_ doing this.

“I gotta go to the bathroom,” he announced, squeezing past the woman. Her affronted expression was the last thing he saw as he made a beeline for the quickest route out. He shouldered past a few more people, determined to put some distance between himself and the party.

The path that went around the back of the house was cleverly obscured by a Japanese Maple. From the woman’s point of view, it probably looked like he’d gone to piss all over the ornamental ferns. _That’d_ give her something juicy to gossip about the next time she saw her daughter, niece, whatever.

He could picture it now. _And you’ll never guess what happened next, Ben Solo— Yes, the MP’s son. You went to school together, remember?— just walked off in the middle of our conversation to relieve himself behind the rhododendrons!_ He continued down the path, smirking to himself.

His car seemed as good a refuge as any, so he steered away from the house and cut through the trees towards it, the noise of the party receding. He just needed a minute, needed quiet. He looked up and stopped dead in his tracks.

Rey.

Just— _there_. Standing by Silencer.

Framed by fading sunlight, she hadn’t noticed him yet. And part of him wanted it to stay that way. The same part that hadn’t ever left Tofino, that stayed behind on that beach, half a lifetime ago, and still waited for her.

A swell of noise from the party shook him back to the moment, and he started toward her.

And then she spoke.

“Hello, baby.”

His heart stopped, restarted. It pounded all the harder for the beats it had missed. She moved slowly, her hand drifting along the car’s matte black finish, a wistful smile curling her lips. He stood there alongside the firs and pines, unable to move, unable to take his eyes off her. Flashes of heat washed down his back at the thought of the feel of those fingers, of what they had done and what they could do. For one mad second, he wondered if it was possible to be jealous of a car.

He tried to think of something to say to her, but the words weren’t there. They were drowned by the blood roaring in his ears, and by his own desperate wish that he could be quick witted like his dad, or charming like Poe. And the longer he stood in the shadows, just watching, the more he felt like some lurking figure from a chilling tale, and the further away he felt from ever being able to get back to where he’d left off.

She sighed. She still hadn’t seen him. “God, I hope I look as good when I’m fifty.”

“You won’t,” he blurted, finally coming out of the shadows.

He was about to follow up with, _You’ll look better_ , but the way she jumped, and the look on her face as she snapped her head to stare him down, froze him in his tracks. That look— a rapid chase of emotions that he could hardly follow— ended up where he’d so often left her in the past. Hurt. Deep and raw, curdled with anger.

“Wow,” she said, a quick shimmer of tears in her eyes.

And then she was talking, flashing fury. She was talking and _kept talking_ , and wouldn’t let him finish, wouldn’t let him explain.

Rey stepped towards him, jabbing his chest with her finger. “That’s a pretty shitty way to greet someone, even for you. And that’s saying something.”

 _That_ touched a nerve. He felt his temper rise to match hers, steel striking flint. He opened his mouth to respond, but she shoved past him, never once looking back.

He stood there, gaping after her with a dazed, idiotic expression. His breath came in halted stutters. The urge to strike something was sudden and fierce. It overwhelmed him, momentarily blotting his vision.

He stood there, shaking, fighting for control. His fists closed until his knuckles bleached white.

Ben turned and abruptly charged into the woods, fleeing for the solitude of the beach. Desperate to be away, to be anywhere but here.

How had things gone so wrong so quickly?

Because it was him, of course.

Stupid. So _fucking stupid_.

Why was he _always_ like this? Forever saying the wrong thing. Or the right thing, but saying it the wrong way, or at the wrong time. He was well past thirty— wasn’t he supposed to have this shit figured out by now?

The trees thinned out, giving way to scrub that stubbornly clung to life in sandy soil littered with bits of driftwood and broken shells. He stumbled onto the beach and came to a halt in the sand. After the clamour of the barbeque, the quiet was unnerving. But, then again, it wasn’t. There was peace in emptiness. Relief.

He sank down onto a log, listening to nothing, and discovering it wasn’t nothing at all. The bones of ancient cedars in Pacific Rim National Park creaked and groaned. The ever-constant breeze rustled the branches. Something moved in the underbrush, causing a small but sharp snap. A far-off raven called out and was not answered. The sound was gravelly and mournful. It echoed and died, swallowed up by the wind in the trees. And underneath it all, the endless roar of the surf— crashing, ebbing, and crashing again.

Ben released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The drumming in his ears quieted as his heartbeat slowed. He breathed in the damp, clean air. And the sharp tang of salt and rotting seaweed flooded his senses as memory took hold.

Twin braids. Small, slim shoulders hunched over from the strain of carrying more grief than any child her age should be expected to bear. Whispered truths of a past half remembered, of being left, of never knowing why. His trembling hand reaching for hers. And hers, reaching for his.

_You’re not alone._

_Neither are you._

Fervent promises they’d had no business making. Cold North-Westerlies, thin arms around his neck, hot tears soaking his shirt. The urges swelling in his young chest, confusing but undeniable. To care for her. To protect her. And the unexpected anger, hot and fierce, toward those who’d wronged her.

They’d just been children then. Too young to know anything. Not that different from now, he thought, bitterly. And not that different from years after that first day on the beach, when they’d both grown old enough to make real mistakes.

Ben tried to shake his head to clear it. But it was too late. The undertow had caught him, dragging him down. As always, he surrendered to it.

Fumbling hands in the dark, terrified he’ll hurt her, terrified she’ll ask him to stop. Frantic kisses, swallowed groans. Hearts beating so loudly they’re sure to wake someone sleeping in the house above. Shaky fingers dipping beneath waistbands and under t-shirts. Miles of smooth skin, warm and yielding. He could spend a lifetime mapping every inch of it. She smells of the sea, of brine and sun and honey-sweet summer. He’s drunk on her scent and her taste and, God help him, he knows he will never get enough.

Ben pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. His vision popped with blooms of bright colour. He groaned, wishing he could think of something else. But, like the tides, the waves of memory washed over him without mercy, and swept him away.

Pain.

Shrill. Insistent. Shards of glass lodged deep in his chest.

Panic.

Slick and oily. Clenched in his guts.

And fear. Always fear, dragging him down. Lost in the dark warrens that spiderweb his heart.

She’s not coming. She was never coming. He’s not enough for her, he’s too much to handle. This had always been too good to be true. Stupid Ben. Fucking stupid, sorry Ben. And yet, he’d hoped. Like a goddamn foolish child.

She’s not coming. She was never coming.

Slamming doors, tires spinning out. Stupid Ben. Wild, reckless Ben. Knuckles white, blasting down the highway, desperate to be free of this pain.

Ben squinted at the horizon. A solid dark line was moving steadily inland, chased by the brisk wind sweeping in off the sea. It would rain soon. He had to find Rey. He had to fix this.

* * *

Rey slammed the door shut behind her harder than she’d intended. She squeezed her eyes shut, clenching her jaw. Of all the possible ways seeing Ben again could have gone, _that_ had not been one she’d expected.

 _You won’t_. The _nerve_ of that man.

“Rey? Is that you?” 

Her head jerked up and Rey attempted to look less pissed off. She doubted it worked very well.

Rose came around the corner. “ _There_ you are!”

“I am _so_ sorry I’m late,” she replied, wringing her hands at her waist. “I know I promised I’d be here—”

Rose cut her off with a laugh. “It’s totally fine. Besides, we got most of it ready ahead of time, so—” Rose looked down at Rey’s hands and grabbed both of them. “You’re _shaking_. Why are you shaking? What happened?”

Rey looked away. “I... I ran into Ben. Outside, just now.”

Rose went still, her expression hardening.

“I mean, I don’t know what I expected. I didn’t expect anything,” Rey kneaded her brow and started to babble. “Okay, maybe I’d hoped that when we met again, we could at least be mature adults about it. Fucking don’t know _why_ I hoped that. It’s not like Ben’s ever made anything _easier_ than it had to be—”

Rose pulled her hands away and turned towards the coat rack. Rey looked up at that, confused. 

“Wait, what are you looking for?”

“My taser,” Rose replied calmly, digging through her purse. “If he thinks for one second-“

Rey grabbed her arm. “Rose, no! Stop!”

She half-laughed, half-sobbed, and pulled her into a fierce hug.

Rose squeezed back. “Well, should you change your mind, the offer stands.” Rey was hugging her so tightly that her voice came out muffled. “Nobody hurts my best friend. Nobody.”

“Ben was just being Ben.” Rey sighed, stepping back. “He just kinda caught me by surprise. I’m fine, really.”

Rose shook her head. “Don’t make excuses for him. I mean, sure, they guy has an incredible talent for sticking his foot in his mouth, but that doesn’t mean he gets a pass for being an ass.”

“ _A pass for being an ass_ ,” Rey snorted. “Good one.”

“C’mon,” Rose grabbed Rey’s hand once more, this time dragging her towards the kitchen. “This conversation isn’t over, but the chip bowls aren’t going to refill themselves.” 

Rey nodded, and followed her lead, grateful for something to do.

The barbeque was in full swing. Everywhere Rey looked there were guests laughing and chatting loudly over music that blasted from the living room. Rich smells wafted from the grill and a bunch of kids chased a fat, orange corgi— and each other— around the yard while screaming for no readily apparent reason. She grinned and felt herself relax a little. This was chaotic and overwhelming, but these people were her friends, her family.

Strong arms came around her from behind. “Spare a Cheezie, ma’am?” 

Rey reached into the bag she was carrying and grabbed a handful of the neon orange snacks. She angled her hand over her shoulder and fed them to Finn two at a time.

“Are you aware your wife prefers Cheetos to Hawkins?”

Finn shook his head. “Disgraceful.” 

He leaned forward and snatched the remaining Cheezies from her hand with his teeth. 

“You are never going to believe who I saw,” he said, his mouth half-full. “Ben fucking Solo.”

Rey’s stomach gave a little lurch. “Oh?”

Finn spun her around, his brow furrowed.

“Rey,” he drew her name out slowly, looking her right in the eye. “You good?”

“Pffffttt. I’m fine.” She popped a Cheezie into her mouth. “We’re ancient history.” 

Finn looked like he wanted to say more but didn’t press her. He glanced down at the bag. “Well, one more Cheezie and then it’s back to the old salt mines for me.”

Rey looked over his shoulder towards the grill. “Umm, I think your mines may be on fire.” 

Finn jerked his head toward the grill. She darted away laughing, the bag of Cheezies held high. 

Finn shook his tongs angrily in her direction. “Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!”

Rey was still grinning as she headed for the final snack station by the make-shift beer cooler and dumped the remaining chips into the bowls there. She grabbed a beer and headed towards the long table loaded with food. Her stomach rumbled at the sight. 

As usual, Rose had outdone herself. In addition to the traditional burgers and corn on the cob, there had to be at least seven different salads and several sides. Each had a placard in front of it listing the ingredients. Some of which had a little “GF” or “DF” on them into indicate that they were gluten or dairy free. She had to marvel at Rose’s dedication and attention to detail. If it had been up to Rey, the food would likely have been laid out at random, and the only placard would probably just have read, “Eat up.”

Rey loaded up her plate and headed toward the bonfire. The cold wind whipped the flames into a wild column and those that had neglected to bring their jackets huddled around it, grateful for the warmth. She spied an empty spot next to Poe, who was in the middle of telling one of his stories, and took a seat.

“It was bad enough that we had to pack up our gear while it was still soaking wet, but that was nothing compared slogging three kilometers through the mud the next day.” Poe warmed to his tale. “I remember—” He struggled to keep a straight face. “I remember we were about a click in when I turn around to ask Rose something, but she was just… gone! I look back down the trail, and what do I see? There’s she is, _on her back like a turtle_ , arms and legs flailing in the air.”

Rey almost choked on a bite of potato salad, she was laughing so hard at the memory.

“Her pack, bless her, had to have been almost as big as she was,” Poe continued, holding his arms apart. “Fifty-five or sixty litres at least!”

“My pack was _thirty-five_ litres, thank you very much.” Rose plunked down next to Rey. She swiped a piece of watermelon off Rey’s plate and waved it in Poe’s direction. “And my gear wasn’t the problem— it was the mud.”

Poe balked, laughing. “You had half a kitchen in that pack!”

“I lost my footing and I fell,” Rose countered, giving him a stern, too-serious look.

“Whatever you say, turtle,” Poe winked at her, taking a swig of his beer. “But I’m fairly certain I saw a souffle pan and a full set of mixing bowls in there.”

Rose shrugged. “Well, at least I didn’t hike the entire day with a duct tape over a stab wound.”

The beer that Poe had just swallowed came shooting out his nose.

“Hey!” The shout came from the direction of the barbeque. “You promised not to tell anyone that!”

Rose turned and blew Finn an apologetic kiss.

“Okay,” Poe gasped, wiping his face on his sleeve. “This I have to hear.”

As Finn sheepishly told his side of the story— a whittling accident of all things— the conversation dissolved into a cacophony of laughter and shouted opinions for and against the use of industrial adhesives for medical purposes.

Rey dabbed at her eyes as she finished her supper, her cheeks aching from laughing so much. As she got up to toss out her paper plate and grab some dessert, she noticed that most of the partygoers had finished eating and that things had begun winding down. Laughter from some of the youngest guests turned to tears as the excitement and sugar proved to be too much. Their tired parents began doing the rounds, saying their thank-yous and goodbyes, and collecting their distraught offspring.

Rey got to her feet and opened her mouth to offer to refresh Rose’s drink when she noticed the odd-looking liquid in the cup she was holding. 

“What on earth are you drinking?” she asked. “It looks like blue milk.”

Beside her, Rose shivered. “I have no idea. One of Poe’s deadly concoctions.” She studied the contents of her glass for a moment and then downed it in a single gulp. She winced and gave her head a quick shake. “Whew, that’s something.”

Rey grinned and took the empty glass from her. “Point me to the punchbowl. And to the Nanaimo bars while you’re at it.”

Rose waved her hand in the general direction of the house. “Kitchen.”

Laughing, Rey left the fire, and set off toward the house.

* * *

Coming here had been a mistake. 

Popping the cap off his beer, Ben slugged down about half the bottle. Across the yard, he heard the sound of Rey laughing. Lowering the bottle, his gaze drifted to her. There she was, head thrown back, looking happy and untroubled, as though nothing at all had happened.

And maybe to her, nothing had. Lingering here at the edges of things, Ben felt like a ghost haunting a life he once knew, but no longer recognized. He thought seriously about smashing the bottle against one of the landscaping rocks, spitting a curse at the first person to look at him sideways, and taking off— tires squealing— to somewhere far from here.

But then he heard her laugh again, and curiosity got the better of him. Following the sound of her laugh, Ben made his way through the crowd, zeroing in on the spectacle as it unfolded. 

Poe, with a captive audience, spinning some story. Always so fucking dramatic.

“So, it’s our first away-trip as Scouts, and Han and Chewie decide to turn dinner into a little competition—” Poe caught sight of Ben, and threw his arms wide. “Just who I need to tell this story right!”

“You’re doing fine on your own,” Ben said, forcing a smile. “Just pretend I’m not here.”

Poe waved his hand dismissively. “Anyway, Ben’s dad was the Scoutmaster, and he and his buddy, Chewie— hairiest goddamn man alive, I swear to God— the two of them pair us off and send us out to see who can catch the biggest fish. Whoever comes back with the best catch gets bragging rights and doesn’t have to do dishes for the rest of the trip.” 

Ben had to smile. Poe had them eating out of his hand. 

“The rest, as they say, is history. Ben and I,” and here he slapped Ben on the back and dragged him into the circle, “brought back the clearly superior fish. I mean, it had to have been at least three or four pounds heavier than Finn and Hux’s—”

Unable to help himself, Ben cleared his throat. “That’s _not_ how it happened.”

“Dude.” Poe’s eyes met his, his voice held a note of warning. “We swore an oath.”

“It’s been over twenty years,” he replied, then narrowed his eyes menacingly. “You know the truth. _Say it_.”

Poe looked like he was wrestling with something. “Fine. We didn’t exactly… catch it, _per se_.”

Finn looked back and forth from Ben to Poe. “Then how did two eight-year-olds happen to come by a twenty-seven-pound sockeye?”

“A drunk guy gave it to us,” Ben replied simply.

Poe shouted down the ensuing laughter and choruses of _What?_ “If you’re going to tell it, at least tell the whole story.”

“Fine.” Ben took a slow pull from his beer, deliberately drawing it out. “Here’s the truth. Poe and I had been out there for over two hours and hadn’t gotten as much as a nibble between us. It was hot. We were tired and ready to admit defeat. We were on our way back to camp when a man in a Bayliner pulls along side us. He says he’s over the daily limit and asks if we want one. We say sure, and he tosses the biggest salmon we’d ever seen into the middle of the canoe.”

Ben opened his mouth to continue, but Poe cut him off. “And we swore to never tell anyone about it.”

Finn looked scandalized. “You cheated!”

“Not technically,” Poe shrugs, unapologetic. “We were supposed to bring in the biggest fish, and we did exactly that.”

“All this time,” Finn shook his head. “You let us believe— I did your dishes for _a week!_ You bragged about it for _years!”_

Poe shrugged again and looked to Ben for help.

“Don’t look at me. Keeping it a secret was _your_ idea.”

“It’s not like Dad didn’t know,” Ben said, shrugging. Thinking of his dad wasn’t getting easier, even though everyone said it was supposed to get better with time. He looked down at his feet. “Never quite knew why he let us get away with it.”

“Lies. Deception,” Finn continued. “You’re breaking my heart.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense. Shared secrets and all that,” Rose chimed in, eyes glued to her phone as she scrolled through her playlist. “I’d always wondered why you two became so chummy after that trip.”

Ben winced as Rose let out a squeal and started blasting one of Shania Twain’s most popular hits. Oblivious to, or perhaps _despite_ the blaring noise, Finn continued to lecture Poe on the importance of honesty. When it came to music, Ben tried not to be a snob, he really did, but this was asking too much of his sensibilities. It was just so… manufactured, so formulaic, so— And did it have to be so loud?

“This is… excessive.”

“Sorry Ben, we gotta have at least twenty-five percent Canadian content.” Poe shrugged, though the helpless look he projected was less than convincing. “Take it up with the CRTC. I don’t make the rules.”

“It’s not the origins of the content that I’m opposed to, it’s—”

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I put this playlist together specifically for the occasion,” Rose sniffed. “Every song on here is a testament to this great nation.”

Ben plucked the phone out of her hands and read aloud from the playlist. “Alanis, Drake, Bryan Adams—”

“Now, now,” Poe deadpanned his best South Park impression. “The Canadian government has apologized for Bryan Adams on several occasions.”

Finn choked mid-swig.

“Give me some warning next time, man,” he laughed, coughing.

Poe grinned. “No can do, buddy. I’m just the messenger.”

Ben rolled his eyes, tapping the phone with the back of his hand. “Alright, fine. At least include some of the classics. Neil Young, Joni Mitchell—” He gawked at the playlist. “What the fuck? You’ve got Nickleback, and no Leonard Cohen?”

“Dude,” Rose grunted, snatching her phone back, “no one wants to dance to Hallelujah.”

Finn laughed again, and Ben shot him a withering glare. “You too?”

“Sorry, man.”

“Traitor.”

Ben glanced over at Rey. She gave him an odd look, but it was only a flash— there one instant, gone the next— leaving Ben to wonder if he’d imagined it.

Rose smirked. “Now, Bieber on the other hand—”

A chorus of groans immediately drowned her out.

Finn grabbed the phone from her. “Gimme,” He tapped out a name and the unmistakable opening chords of Bobcaygeon and Gord Downie’s voice filled the room. “It might not be dance music, but, on this day of all days, I think it fits the bill.”

Rose couldn’t quite hide her smile. “I hate it when you’re right.”

Finn arched his brows. “Ben? Good enough?”

Ben clinked his beer against Finn’s. “Fine. You’ve redeemed yourself. This time.”

* * *

Drinks obtained and a Nanaimo Bar consumed, Rey went about collecting Rose’s and her jackets. When she returned to the group, the sun had almost set, and the remaining partygoers were huddled even closer to the fire. Her eyes immediately landed on a tall, broad silhouette standing on the edge of the group listening to Poe. She quickly averted her gaze, refusing to acknowledge an uncomfortable pinching sensation in her chest. Taking a large swig of her mystery drink, she reclaimed to her spot beside Rose, looking everywhere but at him.

“Oh, you angel!” Rose grabbed her coat from Rey and gratefully shrugged it on, giving a groan of pleasure as she zipped it up to her chin. She gave Rey a pointed look, nodding her head slightly in Ben’s direction.

Rey ignored the look and instead handed Rose her drink. She held her own cup up in salute and tipped back the contents. The warm feeling that spread through her was a welcome relief. She concentrated on the fire as the slightly damp wood hissed and popped sparks. She let her attention drift with the flames awhile, lost in their hypnotic dance, as music and animated conversation swirled around her. It was the oddest feeling, the magnetic pull of him, even now. Ben was so close and yet so far. She hated it. Hated the way it shook her to her core, made her question—

Rose let out a shriek of delight. The song that’d been playing suddenly changed to _Man, I feel like a Woman,_ the volume increasing dramatically.

Rey never _had_ been able to tell if Ben knew when she was watching him, but this time she figured the coast was clear. He was far too busy trying to seem politely disinterested in the choice of music to notice her. His jaw worked and a small muscle under his left eye gave a slight spasm when the track switched over.She hid her grin behind her red Solo cup feeling an unexpected curl of wicked glee. Oh, this was going to be _good_.

Ben had never been one for social graces. Hell, _appropriate responses_ were hard enough to get out of him. But she could see he’d changed, and maybe even made some strides in that regard. Some things, though—

The song hit the second chorus, and his chin started to do that thing where it seemed to move independently of the rest of his face. And she stifled a giggle as she watched him try to reason with Rose and pretend not to care, his gaze continually drifting to her phone as though they were being pulled by magnets.

 _God, he’s_ dying _. He can’t keep this up, can he?_

She kept watching, fascinated, as his eye twitched, and his finger tapped nervously on the seam of his jeans pocket. For a minute, she thought he might actually make it through the song, but around the fifth or sixth _Whoa-oh-oh_ , it happened. His arm muscles tensed all the way up to his shoulders, and he was staring at Rose’s phone as though it had wronged him.

_He’s going to crack in three… two… one._

Even though she’d been expecting it, Rey almost choked on her tongue when Ben lunged for the offending device. Some things never changed. Just the way, she figured, some things couldn’t stay the same. He was thicker, broader. He’d grown into his ears, or maybe it was the other way around. He wore his hair longer now, and there was an unfamiliar firmness, a solidity to him that went beyond the physical, that hadn’t been there the last time she saw him.

“Dude,” Rose said to him, snapping Rey back to attention, “no one wants to dance to _Hallelujah_.”

And it caught her by surprise. How quick the memories were to take shape. Bare feet in the sand, holding and being held. Shared breath. Beauty marks mapped by starlight. The mournful strains drifting from the open windows of a black Camaro.

 _Your faith was strong but you needed proof_  
You saw her bathing on the roof  
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya  
She tied you to her kitchen chair  
And she broke your throne and she cut your hair  
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

 _Hallelujah_  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah  
Hallelujah

Rey’s eyes involuntarily snapped to Ben’s. She jerked them away just as quickly and forced herself to pay attention to the conversation going on around her and not to her pounding heart. Did he remember? Was he fucking with her? He must be. Why else would he bring it up? Unless, it was just a coincidence. She glanced at him again. He seemed unaffected, relaxed even. The music had changed again, this time to The Tragically Hip. A band everyone seemed to agree on. She watched as he clinked glasses with Finn, with what could almost pass as a smile on his lips. So maybe it was just her then. That thought was almost worse.

An exceptionally strong gust of wind made her pull her jacket tighter. Abandoned plates and cans went skittering across the grass. She reflected on how it was a good thing she’d locked everything down at the surf shack earlier. These were the kinds of gusts that could do serious damage, send patio furniture flying, rip shutters right off.

Shutters. Shit. _Shit_.

“Rosie?” she turned quickly to her friend. “I need to run home for a bit. I forgot to lock down the shutters.”

Rose was clearly feeling the alcohol but had the presence of mind to offer assistance. “Waitta sec… I’ll come with you.”

“I can handle it on my own.” Rey looked around. “But you may want to consider taking the party indoors. That buffet table looks like it could go airborne any second now.” Rose whipped her head around, taking in the state of the yard, her eyes growing wide. She began giving orders before she was completely out of her chair. Rey grinned and quickly headed in the direction of home, slipping into the dark unnoticed.

* * *

It had been the almost-empty kiddie pool that had taken flight first. Laughing, the remaining guests scrambled to retrieve it and other items blown about by the wind. Rain had begun to fall in sporadic stinging drops, the promise of a deluge not far behind. It the middle of it all, like a general in the heat of battle, Rose shouted orders. No one questioned, all obeyed. Those not planning on staying at the beach house said their good-byes and ran for their vehicles, eager to get home while the roads were still clear.

Ben scanned the remaining faces gathered in the kitchen. Poe, Rose and Finn were picking over the leftovers and loudly toasting the success of yet another Canada Day Barbeque. No Rey. He frowned at that and walked down the hall to see if she was with the last of the guests in the living room. Not there either. He turned back to ask the others if they’d seen her only to nearly crash into Rose.

“Oh, hey,“ Ben said, looking past her. “Have you, uh, seen Rey around?”

“Hey yourself,” Rose squinted up at him, slurring slightly. She grasped an oblong object with two prongs on the end and shoved it up under his nose. 

He eyed it warily. “Did I miss the part where you threatened to tase me?”

“Rey,” Rose hiccupped, ignoring his question, “is a fricken drop of golden sun.”

Ben managed to maintain a straight face. “Okay.”

“And you,” she growled, waving the taser, “would try to _snuff it out_.”

“I don’t know what—” Ben tried again.

“You don’t get an _ass_ for being a _pass!_ She deserves _the world_ and I—”

“You’re right, you’re completely right.” Ben changed tactics, took a small step back and slowly raised his hands. “Look, I don’t know what she told you—” He sighed and rubbed his temples. “Just— _please_. Have you seen her?”

Rose pursed her lips, but her expression softened a touch, and she slowly lowered the taser. “She said something about going home and shutters, but she should be back by now.”

Ben shook his head, confused. “Home?”

“Yeah, dummy. _Her_ home. The surf shack.”

Of course. Looking toward the direction of the beach, he turned to go.

“Ben?” Rose called after him, her lip trembling. “You do _anything_ to hurt that girl, and I won’t let you forget it.”

Lingering for a second, Ben nodded solemnly and set out toward the tree line.

The had squall finally made landfall. The rain came down in torrents, deep puddles appearing everywhere. Ben considered driving, but he knew that with wind like this, it was only a matter of time before trees started coming down. No, better to take the beach access. The route was longer, but there would be fewer obstacles. Using the flashlight app on his phone, he took off at a run.

He was still a way off when he spotted her. Rey was straining against the wind to close the left of a pair of shutters. The wind shifted suddenly causing her to fall forward, the right shutter slamming into her. Rey cried out and slumped against the side of the house, cradling her arm.

Ben fought his way through the gale coming in off the ocean. He called out her name, but wind ripped it away. All he could do is watch as she got up and tried again. He couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. She was a fighter, so stubborn, so strong. On her second attempt, she managed to grab hold of the right one first. She held it shut with one hand while straining to grasp the edge of the left one.

“Rey!” Ben called out her name again, at her side at last and reaching out for the left shutter. “Let me help you.”

She spun around and gasped, nearly losing her grip on the right one. Her expression darkened when she saw who it was. 

“I don’t need or want your help,” she roared over the wind. “I can do it myself!”

“Too bad. I’m not leaving you,” he yelled back, defiant, eyes locked on hers.

Rey’s hair was plastered to her face, but Ben could still make out her features, he saw the exhaustion there, saw her waver.

“Fine.” She spat the word out between clenched teeth. “Together, on three.”

She waited for the wind to shift and then counted them down.

They slammed the shutters shut in unison, Ben reaching up and quickly secured the lock.

“C’mon!” Rey yelled, leading the way up the stairs and into the bungalow. 

The wind ripped the door out of her hands. Wordlessly this time, they both grabbed for it and, as one, pulled it shut. Rey flipped the deadbolt and slumped back against the doorframe. Their eyes met and locked, chests heaving, water dripping on the linoleum. She opened her mouth to speak, when the power blinked out plunging them into sudden and complete darkness. 

A beat passed, two.

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter is three weeks late, but I figured better late than never. We've got just one chapter left, and I'm planning on pulling out all the stops! Tropetown, USA, here we come! 
> 
> As always, every kudos and comment means a lot. Thank you so much for reading, everyone!


	4. A Case of You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some major writer's block and couldn't see the way through for the longest time. I finally broke through yesterday, and it became clear to me that I should up the chapter count when I was already 4K in and I hadn't even reached the mid-way point of my chapter outline.
> 
> I'm determined to finish this fic before the release of TROS, so the next and final update will be in the next few weeks!
> 
> Thank you so much to everyone still reading this, I appreciate you more than you know <3

The plunge into darkness was so sudden that the sight of Ben soaked to the skin, his chest heaving, lips parted, and eyes focused on her, was burned onto the back of Rey’s eyelids.

She bit back a groan. This was _not_ happening. Shit like this only happened in movies, or in books with bad titles and worse cover art.

“Fuck.”

The room felt too small, the combined sound of their breathing and her pounding pulse drowned out all else. Light. She needed to find a flashlight or candles or something. Because _this_ , this was too much.

Disoriented, she took a quick step into the room and, for the second time that day, tripped over the patio furniture she’d left inconveniently by the door. She gasped, falling backwards, only to be caught, spun and steadied by large, sure hands. She froze, Ben’s chest against her own firm and unyielding.

“You ok?” his voice was low, and Rey swore she could feel the vibration of it through her palms as his breath co─mingled with hers. He was close, so close. Close enough for her to─

Rey wrenched her hands away putting distance between them.

“I need to─” she exhaled, trying and failing to articulate her thoughts. “Lights. Right, um.” She turned and stuck her arms out, groping in the dark for the offending chair that had undoubtedly left a bruise on her shin. She slowly made her way around it towards the tiny kitchen, feeling for drawer handles as she went.

“Flashlight, flashlight… nope, not it,” she muttered irritably as she rummaged through the contents of the junk drawer. “I know it’s here somewhere.”

Light, sudden and blinding, filled the small space.

“Whoops,” Ben mumbled sheepishly. “Sorry about that.”

He was holding his phone, the little but powerful LED light now pointing at the floor and not her face.

Rey felt like an idiot for not thinking of the idea first. She huffed out an annoyed breath as she returned to the task at hand. The flashlight was nowhere to be found, but there was an unopened package of six pumpkin spice tealights and a barbeque lighter amongst the random bits and bobs. And as Rey went about lighting them, she glanced up and noticed Ben still hadn’t moved from his spot by the door.

“Why don’t you make yourself useful, maybe get the fire started or something.”

The beam from Ben’s phone slowly panned around until it fell on the woodstove in the corner. She watched from the corner of her eye as he moved towards it, shrugging out of his jacket as went. He rolled up his sleeves and, without a word, got to work.

Rey started placing the candles around the room, determinedly not looking at the way Ben’s damp forearms flexed and gleamed in the firelight. Not that he’d notice if she did. He seemed utterly engrossed in his work as he slowly added larger and larger pieces of kindling to the stove.

Setting down the last tealight, she went to pull off her own soaked jacket only to be stopped by an unexpected sting of pain. She hissed as she looked down at her right arm. There, just below her shoulder, was a jagged, horizontal cut. There was a sharp intake of breath that was not her own, and Rey looked up to see Ben’s gaze fixed on her wound.

“It’s nothing,” Rey said, though she was sure he didn’t believe it. “A little duct tape and it’ll─”

Ben wasn’t laughing.

Rey rolled her eyes. Why did everything with him have to be so damn serious all the time?

“I’ve got some gauze and medical tape in the medicine cabinet,” she said, but he was up and moving towards the bathroom before she’d even finished speaking.

She let out a frustrated grunt and followed. “Hey! Just what do you think you’re do—”

“Sit.” He pointed to the toilet.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, Ben,” she protested. She went to fold her arms over her chest and winced as she touched the cut. “I can take care of a stupid, little scratch myself.”

“I know you can,” he said collecting the needed items and closing the cabinet. “Sit.”

Sighing, Rey scowled and sat down on the toilet seat. Ben didn’t acknowledge that she’d taken his advice. He went about his business, and stood to full height, letting out a surprised grunt as his head bumped the single, hanging lightbulb with a clink.

Rey couldn’t help it. She snorted a laugh and covered her mouth immediately.

“You ought to get a fixture,” he said, his eyes flicking up. “Or at least cover that thing.”

Rey laughed again. “It’s fine the way it is. I’ve never hit my head on it. You’re the one built like a damn Sasquatch.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed, but something in his expression softened slightly. Then again, maybe is was the candlelight.

“I need something to clean that with,” Ben said, pointing to the cut. “A rag or a facecloth.”

Rey nodded to a niche in the wall where she’d crafted a little space for towels and the like. Taking one up, he ran it under the tap, then eased down to one knee and began tending to her arm.

He was focused, purposeful in his work. And for all his bluff and bluster, it always managed to surprise her how gentle he could be. How had she forgotten that? Her gaze flicked up to his face as he worked, the amber glow highlighting and softening its planes and angles, and to that one lock of hair falling in front of his eyes. She brushed it aside on instinct, her fingertips grazing his brow. He looked up, an unspoken question in his eyes.

 _Shit_.

She withdrew her hand. “So, um, you can see what you’re doing.”

He held her gaze a moment longer before he resumed dressing her wound. And she knew the feel of his fingers on her skin were as much a cause for the goosebumps as the cold water.

He cleared his throat and stood, gesturing to the bandage. “Try not to get it wet.”

Rey looked down, surprised that he was finished already. She’d barely felt a thing. She opened her mouth to thank him, but he’d already left the room. She bent her elbow a few times to test the bandage, and stood up, steadying herself against the wall. Inhaling sharply, she shook her head hard, trying to clear the slight haze of alcohol still clouding her senses, and went after him.

Some things never changed. And with Ben, never wasn’t just a word. It was the only thing you could be sure of.

* * *

Taking a seat near the fire, Ben took advantage of having the room to himself for a moment. He was a large man, he knew this, but here, in Rey’s home, it felt especially true. Maybe it was because his memories of this place were from when he was smaller. Or maybe it was because it was now hers. All he knew for certain was that every part of him was acutely aware of being in her space. Intruding where he wasn’t wanted. If he were a better man, he’d leave her in peace. But he wasn’t a better man.

He used the opportunity to take in the space, noting the changes Rey had made since taking it over. The walls were finished, though the floor remained unvarnished. It was brighter and, while sparsely furnished, had colourful tokens of Rey’s unique style everywhere he looked. The lawn chairs and large potted plants seemed a tad out of place but─

“They normally live on the deck,” Rey emerged from the bathroom and waved a hand in the direction of the centre of the room. “It’s not normally so crowded in here.”

Ben watched as she dug a kettle out of a cupboard, her damp sundress hitching up the backs of her toned, tanned legs, her muscles flexing smoothly as she went up on her toes. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, facing the fire once more. Small talk was not his forte, not by a long shot, but if he didn’t find a way to redirect his thoughts, and _fast_ , he’d find himself in trouble. Work was always a safe topic, right?

“You’re a scavenger now, huh?”

“I’m sorry?” Rey set the kettle down on top of the woodstove.

“Those hipsters from Grice Point. Poe said you were reduced to taking them as clients.”

“ _Reduced_ to?” Rey visibly bristled. “I wasn’t reduced to anything, thank you very much. And what would you know about it?”

“I’m sure you’ll be relieved to hear I have no idea.”

“You’re unbelievable.” She shook her head slightly, her expression darkening as she shoved past him toward the dresser standing next the bed.

The feeling of peace that had settled between them seemed to evaporate, and Ben was baffled as to why. Rey was brilliant and could do anything she set her mind to. Giving surfing lessons to the brats of obnoxious tourists was beneath her. Why on earth would she would she take offence to his stating something so blatantly obvious?

A drawer slammed shut, the noise almost as loud as the shutters banging in their sills. She tossed something on the bed and spun back around to face him.

“I’ll have you know,” she lit into him as she began to unzip her sundress. “I am more than satisfied with my chosen line of work.” The garment fell to floor along with Ben’s jaw. Apparently, she was beyond noticing or caring, since she continued to loudly list off the merits of her job while wearing nothing but a few scraps of dark lace.

She grabbed a shirt off the bed and pulled it over her head. “And furthermore,” Rey continued, but Ben had stopped listening. Something in his head had short-circuited when he realized it was one of _his_ shirts that she was wearing. The lettering was faded, but _The Strokes_ , was still clearly legible. One of his favourite bands, back in the day, and decidedly _not_ one of hers. The thing came down to halfway to her knees.

He watched, mesmerized, as she shimmied out of her underwear and bra, tossing them onto the floor alongside the dress. Something dark and possessive swirling in his chest at the sight, knowing that she wasn’t wearing anything under _his_ shirt.

“That’s mine,” Ben said, his voice coming out huskier than he’d intended.

Rey glanced down and seemed to take in the reality of the situation. She flushed a dark pink as she snatched up the sleeping pants on the bed.

“I guess you could say I scavenged it.” She threw the words at him as she stormed off towards the bathroom, her tone acid.

Ben slumped back in his chair with a strangled groan. He was so royally screwed.

* * *

Rey took extra care with her evening bathroom routine, brushing her teeth for the full recommended two minutes and even remembering to floss. She definitely wasn’t stalling, and she most certainly wasn’t trying to decide if what she felt more was outrage or mortification. She glanced down at her─ well, technically _his_ ─shirt. It was just so roomy and soft, perfect for sleeping in. It had nothing to do with the fact that it was his. _Liar_. The little voice in her head was soft but insistent. Rey clenched her teeth and glared at her reflection as she started vigorously brushing her hair, tearing through the tangles.

 _You won’t_.

The pain was a welcome distraction.

The muffled whistle of the kettle could be heard through the closed door. It cut through her thoughts and she her hand stilled mid-stroke. As the sound died away, Rey heard the creak of floor boards and the clink of mugs as Ben got up to pour the tea. It was the oddest thing, the sound of someone else moving around in her space. It was jarring and yet filled a deeply lonely part of her soul with quiet, desperate yearning. It had been all she’d ever wanted. Her eyes slid closed, the hairbrush coming down on the edge of the sink with a clunk.

The longer she stayed in here, the more it would look like she was hiding. She was many things, but Rey was not a coward.

The weight of Ben’s gaze was almost a physical thing as she entered the room. He extended one of the two mugs he was holding, awkwardly trying to turn it so that she could take it handle first. She accepted it without speaking, carefully avoiding touching him when she did.

“Rey, look... I─”

She held up a hand to stop him. “Just,” she halted, took a breath and tried again. “Can we just not… please?”

Ben’s face fell slightly, but he assented with a nod and returned to the chair by the fire. Rey took the other one, curling her legs beneath her and clutching the mug to her chest. She took a deep breath of the fragrant steam and felt something in her loosen.

For a long while, Rey and Ben sat in silence, both lost in the flickering flames and in their own thoughts, neither wanting to be the one to break the truce that hung between them, fragile as a spider’s web.

Outside, the storm raged, the shrieking gusts threatening to tear the bungalow to pieces. The old surf shack creaked and groaned in protest but held fast. Small, abandoned and nothing fancy, but stronger than it looks, Rey thought. Like me. She smiled softly to herself, blowing on her tea. She looked up to see Ben staring at her curiously.

“How old do you think this place is?” Rey asked him.

Ben’s eyebrows lifted at that, then lowered again. “Older than me, that’s for sure.” He took a sip of his tea, taking in their surroundings. “I think I remember hearing that my grandfather built it after my grandmother died. Why?”

She gave her head a small shake. “No reason.”

Ben’s chewed his bottom lip as he continued to examine the room. Slowly, deliberately. Like everything he did when he wasn’t raging at shadows.

“You’ve done a good job here,” he said, finally. “Fixing up the place I mean.”

Rey studied him, saying nothing, and waited for the other shoe to drop. Ben looked back at her in that maddeningly indiscernible way he had sometimes.

When her words came, they were soft but had a stubborn edge. “Thank you. I believe some things are worth salvage and restoration.”

He nodded turning his attention back to the fire. Putting down his mug and taking up the poker, he opened the stove, jabbing at the contents. “What made you want to do it?”

“Initially, it was a matter of space.”

“Space?”

Rey hummed into her tea as she swallowed. “Maz and I together don’t take up a lot of room, but the addition of Chewie—”

“Wait,” Ben interrupted, incredulous. “Maz. And _Chewie_.”

Rey grinned. “Yup, finally.”

Ben sat back on his haunches, a slow smirk tugging at his mouth. “About damn time,” he chuckled, and went back to adding more firewood. “I always wondered how they… you know.”

“Annnnyway,” Rey burst out loudly, interrupting _that_ particular train of thought. “Space was limited, the walls— as you’ll recall— are thin, and I had no interest in learning the _hows_ of that particular arrangement.”

He let out a loud laugh, and the hunk of firewood he’d had in his hand smacked down into the ash bed with a spray of embers. “I’m sorry. It’s just, if anyone around here is a sasquatch, it has to be him. He’s gotta be, what, six-ten? Taller? And Maz is five foot nothing. If that.”

“And I’m sure I said I had no interest in the _hows_. But, for the record, she’s four foot eleven.” He shut the stove but was still laughing under his breath. She sighed and squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m sorry I ever said anything.”

“Well,” he said at length, settling back down to look at the fire, “I’m glad someone’s taking care of the place.”

“It just sort of happened, really. After your dad—”

Time stopped as soon as she said it. _No. Stupid. Bad. Abort._

Rey stuttered and looked down into her tea and shrank into her seat. But Ben didn’t seem to have reacted. Not visibly, anyway. Though, when she looked up, something had flattened about him. The lively spark in his eye had dimmed to little more than reflected flame.

“After what happened,” Rey continued, talking more to her mug than to Ben at this point, “the estate became too much for your mom to handle on her own. She couldn’t bear the idea of selling, but she didn’t see the point in keeping it only to watch it decay around her.”

Ben had gone very still, staring at the flames as if they contained the secrets of the universe.

“That’s where we came in.” Rey set down her mug. “In exchange for maintenance of the buildings and upkeep of the grounds, Leia offered Rose and Finn the main house, and me the surf shack, rent free.” A soft smile curled her lips as she remembered it. “Stubborn as she is— and against everyone’s wishes but her own I might add— she insisted on moving into the guesthouse. Her ‘mother’s cottage’ as she still calls it.”

Ben still hadn’t moved. Rey worried the inside of her cheek as she watched him, wondering if she’d said too much.

“But to answer your original question,” she finished, watching for any sign he was still listening. “I liked the challenge of it. Giving the place a new lease on life, saving what I loved.”

His gaze remained fixed on the fire. He swallowed, his throat bobbing almost imperceptibly. But Rey noticed, and it brought a pang to her chest. Despite everything he displayed outwardly, she could sense in him a deep well of regret. That gave her pause.

More than that, it made her wonder. It made her thoughts drift to places they hadn’t gone in years. Ben shifted forward, resting his forearms on his knees, and angled himself closer to the stove. The way the light played on his bare arms and glistened in long streaks on his wet black hair, distracted her in a way she understood had little to do with the lingering effects of the alcohol.

And then, cursing herself for her thoughtlessness, Rey realized that the only reason he was moving closer to the fire at all was because unlike her, he was still in damp clothing.

“Shit, I’m sorry. You must be freezing,” she muttered. “I don’t have anything that’ll fit you, but maybe I could get you… I don’t know, a towel or something that you could put on.”

He arched an eyebrow at that, and the hint of a smile played that the corner of his mouth as his gaze dropped to the shirt she was wearing. Oh, right. That. She flushed and began to rise, but he reached out to stop her.

“It’s fine, I’m good.” His tone suggested he was being truthful, but his hunched posture said otherwise.

“Bullshit.” Rey shrugged off his hand and walked over to the dresser. “Eyes forward, Solo,” She ordered, pulling out the first shirt she touched and putting it on, watching that he obeyed from of the corner of her eye.

She returned, his _former_ band tee in hand, and held it out to him. He hesitated for only a moment before resignedly handing her his mug, standing and pulling his wet shirt up and over his head in a quick motion. It took all her self-control not to gape at him like a fish out of water. Good _lord_ , the man was built. Had he always been this… _big_? He seemed to take up her entire field of vision, his sculpted chest gleaming in the firelight. His shoulders─

She jerked her gaze away thrusting the shirt towards him.

Which he didn’t take.

Cheeks hot, Rey looked back and saw the reason for the hold up: In seemingly no hurry, Ben was neatly and carefully arranging his shirt over the back of his chair, tugging the edges straight so that it wouldn’t wrinkle as it dried. The firelight played over every swell and dip of his muscled back, his thick torso, his─

“Eyes forward, Kanata.” The bastard was _actually_ smirking at her.

Rey gawked openly this time. “Was that a joke? Did the grumpy dark lord just make an actual honest-to-god joke? Poe will never believe this.”

Ben ran a hand through his hair, his bicep flexing slightly, and Rey swore he was doing it on purpose now. He took a casual step towards her, “And what will you tell him exactly, that I caught you blatantly checking me out?”

“I was doing no such…” Words turned to mush in Rey’s mouth. Was it hot in here? Clearly Ben had the stove’s air intake open too far. That must be it. They’d burn through the whole stack before morning at this rate. “The stove,” she said, flustered.

He took another step closer, deliberate this time.

“Ah yes, the stove.” Amusement laced his tone as he reached out and took the shirt from her.

“Yes, the stove.” She almost didn’t recognize her own voice, breathy and low. Fuck it, two could play that game. Rey leaned toward him, slowly lifting her eyes to meet his and continued in a sultry tone. “As in, we need to let it cool a bit. Or we’ll burn through what’s left before we’ve even gotten started. _Solo_.”

* * *

Yup, completely screwed.

Ben’s gaze, which had dropped to her mouth, flicked back up to meet hers as he shrugged on the t-shirt. He readied a rebuttal but was stopped short and looked down. “Did you shrink this?” The shirt barely reached his waistband, its seams crying out for mercy as they were stretched to their limits.

“As I was saying: built like a damn Sasquatch,” she replied, smugly.

“I’m not that big,” Ben grumbled.

“Yeah, and Poe doesn’t bite his lip suggestively during casual conversation,” she said with a snort.

He laughed at that, actually laughed.

“Hi,” she said, providing a demonstration. “I’m Poe.” The swagger was exaggerated, but the imitation was eerily on point.

“OK, now _that_ is disturbing,” he chuckled, taking the mug from her, grabbing his own and walking them over to the sink. “But we don’t have time to unpack all that.”

Rey flopped back in her chair, grinning wickedly as she picked up her phone. “Are you sure about that? I mean, we _have_ the time.” There was a chirp from the corner of the room as she synced her device to the Bluetooth speaker there.

“Well, there was this one time at band camp,” he began, reclaiming his seat by the fire.

“I _knew_ it!”

Soft lilting tones filled the space around them as Joni Mitchell’s ‘A Case of You’ began to play.

“How are you getting service?” Ben frowned at his own phone.

“I’m not. Rose made me download her Canada Day playlist as a precaution.”

Ben sat back, listening. “I don’t see how this made cut. It’s not what she’d constitute as acceptable music to dance to.”

“ _I_ would,” Rey replied, softly, refusing to meet his eyes.

There was a sudden recollection of the earlier discussion with Rose, and of the expression that had come over Rey’s face. And with it, a memory. Sand and stars. And them. It all clicked into place, the song, her reaction, all of it.

He unlocked his phone, connected it to the speaker and started searching for Leonard Cohen, switching the song abruptly over to ‘Hallelujah’.

“What,” Rey muttered, staring at her device. “How did─”

He acted on impulse, without thought. He rose and extended his hand.

“Rey.”

She glanced up and froze.

“Dance with me.”

She stared at it and then him, indecision written all over her.

Years passed. Ages. Or so it felt.

If he were a better man, he wouldn’t ask this of her. A better man would leave her be. But he wasn’t a better man. 

He nudged his hand a touch closer.

“Please.”


	5. Hallelujah

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't normally do this, but we're all pretty broken right now. Without spoiling anything, let me just say that in this chapter the poison needs to be lanced before the healing can begin. It WILL end happily though. I put my heart and soul into this chaper, I hope you like it.
> 
> Merry Christmas <3

* * *

Rey was ten the first time she’d laid eyes on Ben Solo. On her first visit to the beach house, they’d been instructed to ‘go play’, as children so often are, as if that were the simplest thing in the world. They’d eyed each other warily, sizing each other up.

“Why don’t you go show Rey your room?” Leia’s tone, while light and friendly, hadn’t been a suggestion. There was steel in those words.

Ben’s gaze was inscrutable. The way he looked at her then put Rey’s teeth on edge. But she’d followed without a word of protest when he’d beckoned. It seemed he was always just out of reach, even when he was right there.

Rey was twelve the first time she went to battle over Ben Solo. He’d been an easy mark, all lanky limbs and sulky demeanor. Three ninth graders had cornered him behind the gym, and she’d gone in swinging like some feral thing. She’d gotten her eye blackened for her trouble, and a lifelong friend in Ben. Despite the blood dripping from his nose, he’d grinned broadly at her─ the first time she could recall seeing him smile─ as he’d reached down to help her up. They’d been inseparable after that.

Rey was seventeen the first time she’d kissed Ben Solo, the first time she’d kissed anyone for that matter. He’d driven her home after a movie and had miserably blurted out feelings he’d been harbouring for some time, clearly believing them to be unreciprocated. Rey had responded by climbing into his lap and pressing her lips to his.

These past Bens seemed to coalesce and superimpose onto the man in front of her, each separate and distinct, and yet, one in the same. Each of them imploring and hopeful, soul laid bare. Each willing and ready to cut out his heart and give it to her should she ask.

_Now, I've heard there was a secret chord_

_That David played, and it pleased the Lord_

_But you don't really care for music, do you?_

_It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth_

_The minor fall, the major lift_

_The baffled king composing hallelujah_

Because it was hers for the taking. It had always been hers.

_Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

It was a dangerous thing, a heady thing. There was power there for the taking.

The smart thing would be to decline, both his hand and his heart. But when had she ever been smart when it came to him? When had there ever even been a choice?

That power went both ways.

_Your faith was strong but you needed proof_

_You saw her bathing on the roof_

_Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew ya_

_She tied you to a kitchen chair_

_She broke your throne, and she cut your hair_

_And from your lips she drew the hallelujah_

Rising slowly from her chair, Rey reached out and took his hand.

For a moment they just stood there, unmoving, hands clasped. And then, as if pulled together by some unknown force, moved as one. Rey’s free hand came up to Ben’s shoulder as he snaked an arm around her waist pulling her to him as they began to sway along with the music.

_Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

She was unprepared for the rush of sensation at his touch. The heat and smell and nearness of him engulfed her, overwhelmed her. She looked up into his face, searching his eyes. For what, she wasn’t sure. Reassurance? Comfort? Answers to the countless questions she’d screamed into the sea?

_You say I took the name in vain_

_I don't even know the name_

_But if I did, well really, what's it to you?_

_There's a blaze of light in every word_

_It doesn't matter which you heard_

_The holy or the broken hallelujah_

Lifting their entwined hands, Ben reached up and hesitantly traced the line of her jaw.

_Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

“So beautiful,” he murmured.

Rey stiffened slightly and gave a huff of a laugh that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Can’t hold a candle to Silencer though, can I?” She dropped her head, unable to hold his gaze.

“Rey, look at me.”

She felt firm but gentle pressure lifting her chin, and her eyes flicked upwards instinctively.

“You never let me finish, before, I mean.” There was nothing uncertain here. He was sincere, unwavering.

“You got your point across well enough without─”

He cut her off. “I was going to say, _you’ll look better_.”

Oh. _Oh_.

Rey opened her mouth, and then then shut it. Her mind began to whirl along with the rapidly increasing beat of her heart, unable to settle on anything. Did this mean… could he still…

_I did my best, it wasn't much_

_I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch_

_I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you_

_And even though it all went wrong_

_I'll stand before the lord of song_

_With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah_

The thumb that had been under her chin travelled slowly to the edge of her lower lip, grazing it lightly. Rey watched as his gaze dropped to her mouth, watched as he lowered his face hers, her name a breath on his lips, a plea, a prayer.

She rose up to meet him, closing the remaining distance.

Time slowed. The howl of the storm seemed to drift away. And the world reduced to the space between thought and action.

She kissed him.

_Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

_Hallelujah_

Ben’s hand slid around behind her head, his thumb gently stroking her cheek. She opened her mouth wider, chasing his tongue, dragging him by the hair closer still. The press of his hand on her back. The taste of his lips. The smell of his skin. The rightness of it. She wanted more, needed it.

He groaned against her mouth and kissed her back with none of the finesse she remembered. He was all tongue and teeth, more pressure than pleasure. He acted like a man possessed, like he’d been left to die in the desert and had reached an oasis. As if he was afraid she was a mirage, a dream he’d soon wake from.

Rey half-wondered if she’d have bruises in the morning. It only made her more frantic for him.

“Stay,” she whimpered between kisses. “Please stay.”

“I’m here, I’m right here,” Ben soothed, trailing kisses over her face and down her neck. “I’m not going anywhere. Not without you.”

But he’d said the same before. And he’d gone before. And she wasn’t sure she could survive losing him twice.

“I can’t do this,” she said, gasping for air. She tried to push Ben away, but he held her firm against him, a wild, desperate flare in his eyes.

“Can’t do _what?”_

“This,” she gulped for air, stumbling backwards. “Us… not when…”

“Not when what?” Ben asked, throwing his arms wide. With the woodstove behind him, his shadow loomed large over her.

“ _Don’t_. You left me once. You’ll leave again.” She thrust her hand toward the door. “There wasn’t so much as an overnight bag in Silencer, and don’t tell me you wedged one into that trunk.”

“You think _I_ left _you?”_ Ben couldn’t have looked more stunned than if she’d slapped him. “You think I wanted that? I wanted you to come with me! I practically begged you!”

“Come with you?” Her voice pitched higher with every word. Her face felt hot, and her hands trembled. “What, so I was just supposed to leave the only family— the only _home_ — I’d ever known at the drop of a dime? Because you decided that’s the way it would be?”

“ _I_ would have been your family!” he shouted, his hands angrily raking through his hair. “ _We_ could have had a fresh start, made a new home. Us. You and me. _Together_.”

Rey shook her head and couldn’t stop shaking it. “How could you ask that of me? How?”

“Clearly, I wasn’t enough. For you, for anyone.” He said it angrily, but there was resignation there, defeat.

“That’s not fair and you _fucking_ know it,” she hissed at him through gritted teeth. “Don’t you realize what you were asking?”

“I was asking you to believe in me, in us.”

“You were asking me to do exactly what _they_ did. To run off in the night without as much as a goodbye.”

Ben took a half step back. He stared at her, anguish etched into every line of his face. Over his shoulder Rey watched one of the tealights as it burnt out, the amber glow of the wick fading to nothing as thin trails of smoke followed lazy, haphazard patterns as they drifted towards the ceiling. Swallowing past the lump forming in her throat, she gave voice to a question she’d silently asked a thousand times before.

“Why couldn’t you have just stayed?” The words came out as a hoarse whisper as she felt tears begin to well. 

“You know why.” Ben’s tone took on a dangerous edge.

Rey shook her head. “No one blames you fo─”

“Blames me? _Blames_ me? My dad is _dead_. Fucking _dead_ , Rey. Because of me.” Ben was shouting now.

“It was an _accident_ ,” Rey tried to reason, stubbornly fighting for him, even now. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“You think that fucking matters?” The muscles of his neck bulged, and his eyes had the sharp panic of a trapped animal. “I ripped out my mother’s heart that day.”

The tears that had been building spilled down Rey’s face.

Ben lowered his voice, but the deeper register only served to make him sound more desolate. “Every time she looks at me, she sees him. I’m a walking, talking reminder of what was taken from her.”

“That’s not fair.” Rey voice was a weak, pitiful thing.

“None of this is _fair_ ,” he hissed. “You think I wanted to go? Wanted to leave her? To leave _you?_ This was my home! But how could I do that to her? What kind of a monster would willingly put her through that? I had no choice. I _had_ to go.”

“So instead she loses two of the people dearest to her instead of one.” She flared back at him. “How was that better? I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. Your parents threw you away like garbage.”

Rey felt her anger swell. “Are you deliberately trying to hurt me now, or are you really that fucking socially inept?”

Ben stabbed a finger in her direction. “They did, though. You know they did. And you never stopped needing them. Never stopped making my parents some sort of stand-in for the ones you never had.”

“You take that back,” she said, her anger icing over to something harder, darker. Her voice strained, rising to a roar. “You take that back, or you can leave, and I don’t fucking care if you drown in the surf, you self-righteous, selfish bastard!”

“What the fuck are you─” Ben scrubbed his face with his hands as he turned and bellowed a garbled cry towards the fire. His shoulders heaved as he struggled to regain control of himself.

Rey‘s fingers twitched. She wanted to strangle him. He didn’t apologize. Of course he didn’t. The fight had just started. He had a taste for it now, and she knew he wasn’t going to back down.

“What I was _trying_ to say was, that unlike your parents─ who, for the record, were _fucking morons_ ─” he emphasized with a shout, “my parents loved me.” He took a deep breath and turned to face her once more. “I see that now. And while we didn’t always see eye to eye, I loved them.” His chin began to quiver. “And at the time, all I seemed to do was inflict pain on those I cared about. It was my chance to stop that, stop hurting them.”

Rey stared at him, the rage in her chest cooling like drenched iron slag. “You are such a fucking idiot.”

“What do you want me say? That I left because I couldn’t bear to face her? To live every day with reminders about what happened? ‘Cause that’s also part of it.”

“I never took you for a coward.”

Ben’s nostrils flared. “I did what I thought was right.”

Rey couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone. “You did what was easier, for you, while the rest us were left to pick up the pieces. You may have wrapped it up in the guise of a noble sacrifice, but that doesn’t change the fact that you ran when things got hard.”

“You make it sound so simple,” Ben snarled, the space to their right darkening further as two more candles winked out. The roof gave another pained groan as the wind barreled down the beach with unabated fury. “Like I just packed up my heart along with my stuff that day.”

“Didn’t you?”

Ben looked away, his chest seeming to collapse in on itself. “No.”

And there it was again, the damnable spit of hope that refused to die. “Ben,” Rey started cautiously, “why are you here? Why did you come back?”

He turned to face the fire, staring into it, saying nothing. He cleared his throat, standing a little straighter but refusing to look at her. “It’s getting late, we should try and get some sleep.”

It was as though an impassable chasm had yawned open in the floor between them. She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to hold him. She did neither. Instead she nodded, numb with exhaustion, and went in search of a spare blanket.

* * *

Ben’s ass was going numb. His back ached as he shifted in his chair, hitching the blanket higher. He couldn’t recall the last time he felt this tired.

Outside, the storm raged on. Rain pelted the eastern windows with more insistence as the wind shifted direction. Gusts blew in through the crack under the door, filling the space with a damp, briny scent that mingled with lingering woodsmoke that leaked from the stove.

His focus drifted as he watched lazy licks of flame weave their way around the slow-burning wood, fragments of the evening replaying in his mind. Golden skin glowing in in the firelight, words transformed into weaponized hurt, none of it seemed real. His thumb grazed over a tender spot on his lower lip where Rey has sunk her teeth. The sting of it felt like an anchor.

He’d exited the bathroom to find her in bed, her back to him, still and silent, a throw and cushion waiting for him on his chair by the fire. Ben sat there for what felt like hours, Rey feeling simultaneously too far away from and too close to him. He closed his eyes with a weary sigh, shifting once more.

“Ben,” despite her hushed tone, Rey’s voice rang out like gunshot. He turned to look at her, his heart stumbling a little. She reached out and pulled back the covers between herself and the wall. “Neither of us is going to get any sleep with that bloody chair creaking all night.”

“I don’t thi─”

“Just come to bed,” she sighed impatiently, a little of the earlier fire returning to her voice, “and lose the pants.”

Ben had been in the process of rising from his chair, but he froze at this. “Lose the—”

She rolled halfway over, craning her head around. “Well, they’re soaked, aren’t they?” Not wanting to start another argument, he did as she asked. Well, for that, but also because she was right.

The belt buckle rattled, followed by the thwick of his zipper. Both sounds were far louder than he thought they should have been. He carefully hung his pants over the back of Rey’s chair, angling it closer to the stove. Maybe it was his imagination, but he could swear he felt her eyes on him as he turned down the air intake and added more wood. He held his breath, trying to slow the rapid thudding of his heart.

This felt like the very best and very worst of ideas. But he was cold, and he was tired. And as always, when she beckoned, he would follow.

Rey was a collection of soft shapes in the darkness, as close to the edge of the bed as possible without actually falling off. She was stiff and refused to look at him, and so he did his best not to jostle her as he awkwardly arranged himself into the bed behind her. The wall against his left side was cold, and his feet dangled off the end when he stretched out his long legs, but it was a vast improvement to spending the night in the beach chair. And, besides, it was warm, and the pillow was soft. And it smelled of her.

Rey shifted beside him, trying to get comfortable, and let out a startled yelp when she began to tip over the edge. Ben acted on instinct, rolling to his side, his arm darting out and catching her before she could fall. The swift movement brought her back flush against his chest, and for a moment neither or them moved.

Time seemed trapped in amber. Every sound was amplified. He waited for Rey to shove him away, to curse him out again and to call him an asshole. But she didn’t. Slowly, oh so slowly, she relaxed against him, molding her legs around his and tucking her arms against her chest. Ben let himself breathe again, stretching his right arm out under the pillow above their heads.

“Don’t get any ideas,” she mumbled.

“Got it,” he huffed against her hair, his nose just brushing the shell of her ear.

The sound of her breathing evening out. He closed his eyes and thanked whatever deities had seen fit to grant him this unexpected gift as he followed her into sleep.

* * *

The dream started as it always did, indistinct shapes and sounds sharpening to a razor’s edge. The same night, the same road, the same argument. The same frustration crawling under his skin like some living thing frantic to escape.

Ben gripped the steering wheel, the ache of it traveling through tendon and bone, the weight of it sinking to his feet, onto the gas pedal. His passenger fared no better, but his words were accompanied by a weariness only brought about by the passage of time.

 _Don’t look_ , Ben begged his dream-self. _He’s not really there if you don’t look_.

He ground his teeth, adjusting his grip. He returned his focus to the task at hand as rain lashed against the windshield.

“You don’t have to do this,” the familiar voice said.

“Like everyone you raced for was a saint!” Ben snapped back, like he always did, like a fool.

 _Why can’t you just be happy for me, why can’t you be proud_ — the pleas sit on the back of his tongue, threatening to choke him.

“I didn’t have what you have, kid. I raced for anyone who’d paid decent. Because no one gave a shit about me.” Han Solo leaned back, raking his hand through his steel gray hair. His wrinkled brow was even more furrowed than usual. “You talk to your Uncle Chewie about how many fucking dives we stayed in, how many times we had to get around the kneecappers who wanted their cut, how many times I should have died in whatever taped together rig I had to drive that week. Because I didn’t know where my next meal was coming from.”

The turn of Ben’s head was as inevitable as the rest of it. He glared at his father, whose jacket is almost as weathered and worn as his face, his hazel eyes the only thing about him unchanged by time. Those tired, hope-filled eyes. Eyes that crinkled when he smiled. Eyes that expressed more than his words would ever say.

There was a fragment of Ben that knew this was a dream. And that sliver of consciousness tried to commit every detail to memory. The fear of forgetting filled him with something akin to panic, as something in him cracked down the middle.

“You make it sound like I’ll be working for some sleazebag.” Ben pounded the steering wheel. “First Order is one of the most reputable and sought-after firms in the province. They only offer two apprenticeships a year. _Two_. And they want me.”

Visibility was reduced to a car’s length— two at best. Leaf litter carpeted the slick roads. Ben maintained their speed.

“They’re not the only ones,” his father reminded him. “You know your mother and Luke pulled a lot of strings to get you that clerkship.”

“Right, ‘cause working under your Supreme Justice uncle, brother of one of the province’s most well-known MPs, doesn’t scream ‘I got here purely on my own merits and not because of the silver spoon in my mouth’,” he spat back, shifting down and maneuvering the car around a downed tree branch. “Snoke’s offer is solid. It’ll give me a chance to make a name for myself, on my terms.”

A part of him knew he was trying to convince himself as much as his father. He just wanted it so much, the opportunity to prove he was more than the blood in his veins, more than what they had planned for him.

Han scraped his palm across his stubbled chin. “That’s what he wants you to believe.”

The combination of the dim glow from the dashboard and the streaking rain that splattered the windshield created distorted patterns across his weary face.

“I’ve known men like him all my life.” He seemed to be weighing his words carefully, and for the first time he could recall, Ben thought his father looked old. “He’ll take what he wants, and then he’ll break you, turn you into something you don’t recognize anymore.”

The rain came down harder. It poured in unrelenting sheets, the wipers unable to keep up. Ben wavered, his knuckles tightening on the steering wheel, doubt curdling deep in his gut as he thought about the offer letter he’d signed the week before.

_The road. Watch the road._

He shook his head, his voice almost lost in the rain. “It’s too late.”

“It isn’t.” Han turned to face him, with that spark in his eyes Ben knew so well. “When we get home, we can discuss it with your mom and—”

_No. Please. Please, no. Dad. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean to do it. Please don’t go._

It was the sound of it that he would never forget. The absolute clarity of it. The sudden sickening thud. The scream of metal and glass torn apart. The grunt of surprise from his father, as all disintegrated into water, and blood, and darkness.

* * *

The fire was spent with only a few glowing embers remaining. It made the darkness that enveloped the small space all but complete. Rey lay there, motionless and wondering what’d woken her. There had been a sound, she’d been sure of it. She held her breath, listening. But all that could be heard was the wailing of the wind and the creaking of the shutters. She waited a beat longer, and then slowly let out a long exhale, closing her eyes and willing herself back to sleep.

The sound came again, faint but clear. It was something between a whimper and a moan. It was coming from behind her, it was coming from Ben.

She rolled over and reached out a tentative hand to him, her palm coming to rest on the broad expanse of his chest. Erratic twitches and tics spasmed just under his skin, making his muscles jump under her fingers.

“Ben,” she called out, her voice low and raspy with sleep. No response. She shook him a little and tried again, this time a little louder. “Ben, wake up.” Nothing. Worry crept in when she reached up to cup his cheek and her hand came away wet. She grabbed his shoulder, shaking him with more force. “Ben, it’s not real. You need to wake up.”

He came to with a gasp. His hand shot up, grabbing her wrist with enough pressure to bruise, his chest heaving as he gulped down air like he’d been running for his life. Maybe he had been.

Rey’s heart was in her throat. “It was just a dream. You’re okay, you’re safe.” She spoke softly, like one would to a trapped or injured animal.

“Rey?” Ben’s grip on her wrist slackened, his voice thick with confusion.

Moving slowly, she leaned forward and began stroking his hair. “Shhhh, I’m here. I’m right here.” She felt clumsy and inexperienced. After all, what did she know of giving or receiving comfort? He probably thought her patronizing. But she found she couldn’t _not_ do it either. Something in her wanted to─ no, _needed_ to─ give what she could of herself if it meant him knowing he wasn’t alone.

Ben shuddered at the contact. He pulled her down to him, his hands travelling up her back and tangling in her hair as he pressed his lips to her temple. She responded in kind, scattering slow, tender kisses across his brow and cheeks, the desire to comfort quickly giving way to other urges. Her mouth moved lower, pulled by the inexorable gravity of his lips as her heart began to pound.

Ben rose up just as she lowered her mouth his, their lips parting in unison. His large hands shifted to cradle her head, drawing her ever closer. He groaned as she opened further for him, primal and needy. Or was it her making those sounds? She decided it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered but the heat, and taste, and nearness of him.

Kissing Ben felt like it always did, like coming home. But beneath the indescribable pleasure, her heart wailed. He would only leave her again, they all left in the end. And the part of herself starving for touch, for love, screamed in rage. She hooked a leg between his and ground her aching core against his thigh. She may not be able to make him stay, but she could have this, here and now.

“Rey, slow down.” Ben rasped.

“No.” Her voice was almost a snarl. She reclaimed his mouth, swirling her tongue with his as she pulled one of his hands down to her chest. She leaned into his touch, feeling her nipple harden between his splayed fingers.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his hand tightening around her breast. “Rey, we need to stop.”

“Your rock-hard cock seems to think otherwise.” She said pressing her thigh against it for emphasis.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed through his teeth.

“Naw, ‘Rey’ will do,” she said leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along his jaw and up behind his earlobe.

“I’m fucking serious,” he growled, spinning them around and pining her to the bed.

“And you think I’m not?” she spat back, humiliation and shame beginning a slow climb up her spine.

“I know you are, but I also know that neither of us are thinking clearly right now.” He was panting as he said it.

The sting of rejection burned. “If you don’t want to fuck me, you can just say so. I’m a big girl, Ben.”

“You think I don’t want you?” His breath was hot on her cheek. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” He lowered his mouth to her ear, his voice molten. “ _When_ I fuck you, it’ll be because we’re ready, not before.”

His words sent a thrill straight through her. “And what if I’m ready _now_?”

“Maybe _I’m_ not. Did you consider that?”

Rey stilled under him, confused and wanting. Her cheeks burned. No, she hadn’t considered that. She hadn’t been thinking about him at all, not in the way she should have been.

“ _You’re_ too important, _we’re_ too important.” Ben dropped his forehead to her shoulder, his head bowed like a penitent seeking absolution, his voice fading to rough whisper. “I won’t fuck this up too.”

“Ah yes, your noble sacrifice,” she replied sullenly. “How could I forget?”

Ben opened some distance between them. “Is it so hard to believe?” He sounded tired.

“That you could delude yourself into thinking that leaving and staying away was for the best? No.”

She turned away, feeling less angry than resigned. Less hurt than numb.

“I said I thought that at the time. I was told… it doesn’t even matter now.” He released one of her arms and raked his hand down his face.

She could hear the subtle scrape of stubble as his palm made contact. For some reason, the gesture suddenly reminded her of Han. “How could it not matter?”

“Because it’s not what I think now.” He released her other arm and rolled to his side.

Rey’s pulse quickened. “And what do you think now?”

“That I was wrong.” He paused. His bottom lip quivered, and he let out a shaky breath. “That you can’t kill the past. It will always be a part of you. And you can’t outrun it or ignore it or wish it away.”

“Ben…” She could barely speak around the sudden lump in her throat.

“I’m tired of running, of lying to myself, I’m so fucking tired.” He sounded tired, like he’d aged a hundred years. “And I’m sorry I ever made you think for a second that my leaving was about you. I’m sorry for not being here when you needed me, for not being strong enough to bear it with you and for you.”

Rey felt fresh tears roll down her cheeks. “Ben, stop.”

“No, this needs to be said. You didn’t deserve any of it, and I need you to know how much I regret the pain I caused.”

The earnestness— the sincerity— in is voice was enough to break her. Her anger and resentment, all the hurt that had kept her afloat for so long, it had been a fire in her belly, keeping her warm. But over time it had also begun to burn her from the inside out, leaving behind just a hollow, charred shell.

 _I’m so fucking tired_. Yes, she could relate to that.

“You’re not the only one with regrets.” She swallowed hard and moved to face him, pulling the duvet up to cover them both, resting her cheek against his shoulder. He held her hand and lay there quietly, idly playing with her fingers that he held splayed over his heart.

She took her time finding the words. But, at last, she started, soft and slight, speaking into the darkness. “There’s truth in what you said, about my always looking to others for validation, to making them live up to impossible standards. Expecting them to fulfill my needs, and to not allow them to be human, to have their own wants and needs or to make mistakes.”

Ben began to stir, about to protest. But she gently pressed a finger to his lips. She needed to finish. Exposing the innermost elements of her heart felt a little like skinning herself alive, but there was relief in confession. And so she pushed on, knowing if she didn’t finish her thought, there was a possibility she never would speak what needed to be said aloud.

“I forced myself to become what I believed the ideal version of me should be, someone who never rocks the boat, never pushes too hard or asks for too much. I didn’t have faith that they could handle it if I did.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Maybe. But how is that any different for you blaming yourself for what happened to your dad?” She sniffed and dabbed her eyes with the back of her hand. “That wasn’t your fault, Ben. Sometimes shit just, happens. There’s no reason, no meaning. And it’s no one’s fault.”

Ben was quiet. He wasn’t agreeing with her, but he wasn’t fighting her on it either. That had to count for something.

Outside the storm had lost some of its vigor, the rain coming down steady and soft. It was sometime later when he finally spoke, his voice coming out muffled and wet.

“I need to talk to my mom.” He wrapped his hand around hers. They were so much bigger than hers, and it always surprised her. “But I don’t how I can face her.”

“I’ll help you.” Rey whispered, her words a promise.

She twined their fingers together, gently closing her hand. Her next questions would be the hardest yet, but Ben had been brave, so she would be too. “What does this mean for us? Where do we go from here?”

“I don’t know. But I want to stick around and figure it out together. If you’ll have me.” Ben’s voice was tremulous, but hopeful.

If you’ll have me. Stick around. Together. She wanted it to be true, oh, how she wanted it. Hope flared anew, but history had not been kind, and the safeguards around her heart stood at attention, shields at the ready. “Making promises or plans right now seems like a bad idea.”

“You don’t think I mean it.” There was no anger or hurt in his tone now, only understanding.

“I think you think you mean it right now, but who’s to say when that will change? This is a small place, not much happens here. And I’m no fucking picnic— if you take me, you take all of me. The good and the bad.”

“Right,” he snorted. “And I’m a fucking prince. I’m a mess, Rey. If anyone should be running for the hills, it’s you.”

She laughed softly, and then sobered. “We don’t have to let what’s happened define us, but we can’t forget it either. I’m willing to try if you are.”

Ben lifted her knuckles to his lips, she could feel him smiling as he spoke. “Good or bad, I’m here. I want to be. Is that enough?”

She smiled, “I can work with that.”

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead. It felt right, like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic would not be here at all or even close to readable without my very dear friend, Wayne (postedbygaslight). As mentor, ass-kicker and friend, his encouragement and faith gave me the courage to push through and see this to completion. He has my eternal thanks.
> 
> This fic started as a simple prompt: Tofino Surfing AU. We laughed about it on the Canadian Reylo Twitter group chat as an idea for #CanadaDayReylo project, but it stuck with me long after, burrowing into my brain. When I began to write it, I did so as an outlet to showcase my beloved island and plug as much Canadian product placement as possible for laughs. I'd never written a whole fic before and felt so out of my comfort zone, but I wanted to challenge myself. It slowly became a form of catharsis for working out some of my own past pain, but it ultimately came down to me wanting to find meaningful resolution for these characters that we love so much while staying as true to their characterisations as I see them. I wanted to honour the amazing writers that came before me and gave me so much inspiration, hope and happiness. I hope I did them proud.
> 
> To all my friends and readers, I'm humbled and forever grateful to you for taking the time to read this. Your kind words put so many smiles on my face. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
> 
> NOW! I have an idea for a short epilogue, so keep your eyes peeled for that ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and constructive criticism is appreciated. Thank you for reading!


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